Find The Way
by HopeLearningSerenity
Summary: Sierra can't sleep. Not since the defeat of the Archdemon. That's when the nightmares came...but are they really nightmares, or something more? She must risk it all to find the truth...and possibly save the one she couldn't save on top of Fort Drakon.
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone! Welcome (especially those of you from the Alistair Fan Club, haha)! Done fanfics before, but this is my first Dragon Age one. I don't own anything Dragon Age, etc. All belongs to the mighty Bioware :P. Except Sierra, she's mine. Forgive me any typos and stuff. I have a tendency to think one word and type another that's similar to it, but not quite right, lol.

Alistair/PC.

* * *

"Ah, so it is you. How did you find me?"

"You're quite a striking woman, Morrigan. You do not escape notice. People talk."

"So I am found. What do you want?"

"I need your help."

"Help you? I'm fairly sure the last time _I _asked _you_ for something, it did not go very well."

"Yes, well, this is now, hmm?"

"Ah, you are not alone. Our little Chantry sister shows herself to be more bard than nun. Kindly remove your knife from my throat."

"Kindly agree to help us."

"Unlikely. Regardless of who you have with you, you'll not convince me to assist you in the least. Did I not follow you all over Ferelden recruiting allies and wading through darkspawn hordes?"

"Yet you were absent from the final battle. Thanks for that, by the way."

"I left, _bard_, because my very simple request was denied. My request which would've saved someone's life, I might add."

"Well, you're in luck. Now you have that chance again. It will really fulfill those helpful tendencies of yours. Tell her, Sierra."

"By the… What has happened to you?"

"You care? I'm touched. What has happened to me is irrelevant."

"It is relevant to me in that this is no ordinary dilemma, not if it has caused you this kind of damage. Where is your templar in shining armor? Surely he has not allowed whatever _this_ is to happen to you."

"So you really did leave? Without even watching from afar to see how the battle turned out?"

"I no longer cared. My duty to you was done. Now, what's the meaning of this?!"

"We have to save Alistair's soul."

*~*~*~*~One year earlier*~*~*~*~*~

Lost, that's what she was. Figuratively and literally.

Sierra, Dalish elf though she was, found herself wandering around the Brecilian woods, as turned around as a _shemlen_ would be. Disgrace to her people. That was the least of her worries, however.

Perhaps she could blame it on not being accustomed to being alone. That sounded good. She'd went from her clan, to the Grey Wardens, to her ragtag party out to stop the Blight and save mankind. "Alone" was a foreign concept to the Dalish. That's why she was lost.

A sharp twist of pain wrenched her heart. Truer words were never spoken. She was lost because she was alone. She was, however, _lost_ because she was _alone_. Without his presence, without his jokes, without his quiet strength. Well, perhaps "quiet" wasn't exactly true…

The great battleaxe slung across her back seemed to weigh an inordinate amount lately. Probably due to lack of sleep, as it had never seemed heavy before. Maybe it had been heavy all along, and without him to distract her, she only now felt its pull on her shoulders and spine.

Ah, sleep. She missed that almost as much as she missed her companions. Not him, though. Nothing could be missed as much as she missed him. His scent, his touch, his voice, his hair, his…being. Sleep could only place second to the ache in her chest. It was definitely missed, though.

How could she sleep? It was a luxury not allowed to her. One would think tearing away the man that meant the most to her would be cruel enough, but apparently not. Nightmares that woke her screaming, trembling with rage and helplessness, that seemed appropriate, too. For a berserker, shaking with anger was a common feeling, but usually when enemies were around, not alone in the middle of the night, floundering around in one's bedclothes.

Enough mental wanderings. There was enough wandering going on in her current situation. If she could only find her fellow Dalish, that would solve one of her many problems. Her own clan would not do; her present state would terrify them. Sickly pale, haggard, sleep-deprived, carrying a giant axe? Oh yes, they'd love that. No, no. She needed Dalish who knew her first as a Grey Warden. Already considered formidable, perhaps her appearance would not be as readily noticed.

Another fierce stab of pain. Sierra thought they had stopped. Walking these forest paths and thinking about being a Grey Warden was too much for her mind to cope with covering up, evidently. Without warning, the elf was blind-sided by memory.

_ She pushed a great bough of a tree out of the way, trying to see up the path before they all started merrily marching that way. They'd been ambushed by werewolves several times already. She wasn't being much of a leader by constantly leading them into danger. Behind her, she could hear Alistair and Leilana discussing the Orlesian's talents._

_ "Ah, yes, but I heard you often seduced your targets. They'd remember you," the former templar-in-training was saying._

_ "Not if they died." Sierra had to bite her lip at the way Leilana trailed off; even talking of assassination, the bard's tone was as sweet as honey._

_ "Oh." The Grey Warden bit her lip harder. She didn't need to turn around to see the delayed reaction on Alistair's face. As accomplished a warrior as he was, he could still be surprised by the shadier dealings of the world. Though she was a sheltered Dalish, Sierra had spent more time with Leilana and has grasped the implications of her abilities far sooner._

_ "Dying while in the company of a lovely seductress...tell me that isn't a good death," the bard was reasoning with Alistair gently._

_ "I don't know if I should take you seriously...but you scare me sometimes," he admitted._

_It was all Sierra could do to stifle a giggle, but then quickly sobered. She wasn't focusing on the task at hand. All her focus was attuned to _him_. It was bothersome and delightful all at once. She'd never met anyone like him in her life, and she reveled in this foreign feeling that dancing through the pit of her stomach every time they touched, talked, or kissed…_

_ The first time had only been last night, before they'd found the Dalish camp, in the shadows just beyond reach of the fire's light. When her lips had touched his, lightning had spiked through her. She'd been sure the spasm of her body would've broken the moment, but thankfully he'd crushed her against his armored chest at the same moment with an arm around her waist._

_ "Daydreaming?" came a whisper. _His_ whisper._

_ She tried to cover her start of surprise with a stern glare. "Do you mind? I'm trying to observe."_

_ Winking devilishly, Alistair peeked his amber eyes down the path. "Looks clear to me," he teased._

_ "Does it?" Sierra challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps you want to lead?"_

_ "What? Lead? Me? No, no, no. No leading. Bad things happen when I lead-"_

_ "I know, I know. Being lost, death, and you with no pants," the elf finished for him. Giving him a sidelong glance, she added, "Can't say I'd complain about that last part. Maybe you _should_ lead."_

_ The blush flared up so fast, if she'd blinked she would've missed the rush of scarlet. Alistair muttered something, and drudged forward up the path, crimson to his earlobes. Sierra's mischievous grin as she watched him go was wiped instantly from her face as movement to the left of the trail caught her attention. No werewolves. Not this time._

_ His amber eyes caught the movement, too, and he turned to see a towering tree taking huge, earth-shaking steps toward him. "By the Maker…" With only a blink of hesitation, he went barreling toward its trunk with his shield._

_ "Imbecile," Morrigan muttered, but Sierra barely heard her. She was already racing forward, as Alistair's signature move had caused him to go bouncing of its thick trunk, and the tree was currently reaching a massive wooden hand toward him as he was regaining his feet._

_ The Dalish elf plowed into her fellow Grey Warden, using her berserker strength to shove him clear. Just in time. Not only did the branchy hand miss, but the tree burst into flames as fire erupted from Morrigan's hands. _

_ The tree let out an eerie wail as it burned. Leilana's bolts sped through the air, piercing the bark in a dozen places before Sierra could draw another stunned breath from the ground. Staggering, the tree toppled over. Right in her direction._

_ An armor-covered arm swooped across her body and rolled her swiftly out of the way, and the flaming tree slammed to the ground mere feet away._

_ Sierra looked down at Alistair from where she lay on top of him. He returned her wide gaze with one of his own. "Are you all right?" they both asked at the same time. After a moment of shocked silence, they burst into simultaneous, relieved laughter._

_ "You're right. You're never allowed to lead again," she said, patting him reassuringly on his heavy breastplate._

_ "I told you!" he shouted. "Thanks for the push, by the way. Must have hurt, slamming into all this." He gestured to his armor._

_ "Nah. Didn't feel a thing," Sierra assured him. "Thanks for the-" she gestured to place where she'd been, where the tree now was._

_ "Can't have you getting squished, can we? After all, _clearly_, I can't lead."_

_ "So it was just to avoid responsibility? There wasn't any other motive, like, say maybe, ending up with me laying on top of you?" _

_ Alistair blushed again, but rallied and glanced down the length of their legs tangled together. He tapped his boots against hers. "Could be. Is it comfy up there?"_

_ "All right, you two," called Leilana. She and Morrigan were making their way around the tree's prone, still-flaming form. "I told you they were fine," she said to the witch._

_ "Then why are they still laying there?" the raven-haired woman questioned. "Get up, if you both have all your faculties."_

_ "Back to work," Alistair said with a grin that melted Sierra's heart._

"Grey Warden?"

Sierra was snapped painfully out of her memory. Before her stood a few of the very Dalish she'd been looking for. Looking at her very strangely. Damn.

"Mithra, is it?" she said quickly, to attempt to distract them from her appearance and apparent daydreaming. How could she forget the elf? Her facial tattoos were striking.

"Yes, Warden," the small woman answered with a proud, if slightly bewildered, smile on her face. "_Andaran atish'an._"

Happy the famous Grey Warden remembered her. Sierra felt the sudden urge to vomit. She didn't deserve this admiration, and the one who did was no longer with her. "_Andaran atish'an,"_ she managed. "I was wondering if you could take me to your camp. It's so easy to get turned around in here. That is, of course, if this is a good time for a guest to barge in."

"Of course, Grey Warden! Lanaya will be pleased that you have come to visit," Mithra answered, a smile lighting her face. "Come, the camp is not far. I'm sure you would've reached it eventually."

Falling in step behind the small group, Sierra rolled her eyes. Not bloody likely. Not when she was so lost.


	2. Chapter 2

_ There was screaming, that much she was certain of. Black, tortured screaming. She had heard many things in her travels, been many dark and terrible places, but she could not recall having heard screams this terrible. She'd rather hear Hespith's insane chant echoing through the Dead Trenches than this. Well, maybe not…_

_ Shapes began to materialize out of the darkness. Large, frightening shapes that made a perfect accompaniment to the screams. She could not explain the terror that gripped her rapidly beating heart, but it threatened to strangle her. There was a piercing beam of light through it all. In the brightness, an image of a fortress flashed briefly. She threw up her arm to shield her eyes from the glare._

_ When she reopened her watering eyes, the dragon loomed large before her. It bellowed, forelegs scrambling at the rocks and stone. She stumbled backwards, feeling it perfectly acceptable to add her scream to the others._

_ Urthemiel._

_ This wasn't happening. It was impossible. The Archdemon was defeated…and yet here it stood before her. _

_ It roared again, wings beating uselessly and eyes rolling aimlessly. The great head whipped back and forth on its sinewy neck. All four legs clawed for purchase on the ground, but it did not advance._

_ When she could think straight, when her breathing was as close to normal as she felt it was going to get, she took a few steps forward. Through the blinding light and colors, she could make out ephemeral chains holding the ancient God in place. _

_ The screams came again, much closer now. Her eyes immediately darted to the source of the sound, near the Archdemon's restless feet. There was…someone there. Someone with their own translucent chains. The source of the screaming._

Alistair.

_ Suddenly everything could be seen with blazing clarity._

_ Soaked with sweat, blood dripping from countless wounds. Face twisted with pain. His head kept shaking back and forth in an eerie mimicry of the Archdemon. Time seemed to slow, as individual drops of sweat and blood danced through the air. From his mouth poured the anguished screams._

_ She froze, head ringing as bile rose in her throat. She wanted to go to him, to help him, but her feet would not move. She had no weapons to defend him and no voice to cry out to him. It seemed she was as trapped as he was, for even if her feet ever responded to her commands again, she could not leave him. Not like this._

_ Well, she finally had one thing. Her scream ripped from her throat like a griffon rising on a thermal. _

_"Alistair!"_

Sierra sat bolt upright, not knowing if she'd screamed aloud or in her mind. She sat motionless, breathing raggedly through her mouth, waiting to see if the camp roused around her. When she was only greeted by the sounds of crickets, the Grey Warden heaved a trembling sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted was everyone fussing over her. They already did it all the time.

Sticking her head outside of the aravel, Sierra looked at the stars. "Well, got about an hour tonight, not bad," she muttered to herself. Gathering her blanket stiffly, she took up her usual post near the opening.

_There was blood. Everywhere. Staining her hands, dripping from her hair, running between her breasts. Looking down, it was pooled around her, yet she felt no pain. Was it not hers? There was the sound of weeping behind her._

_ She spun around, and the breath left her body._

_ Duncan lay bleeding on the ground, his life pouring out of a horrific wound in his side. Alistair, tears carving trails through the grime on his face, struggled on his hands and knees to reach his mentor. The Grey Warden couldn't seem gain any ground though, forever mere feet away from his dying mentor._

_ She collapsed to her knees, burying her face in her bloody hands. She could not bear to see this…not this. Physical pain she could attempt to save him from, foes could be fought. Not this._

_ Reflected against the darkness of her closed eyelids was the outline of a fortress._

"Warden?"

Sierra's head snapped up, hand automatically snaking up to the hilt of her battle axe over her shoulder, which was mostly hidden by the blanket she'd clumsily wrapped around her.

"At ease, _lethallin_. It is only me."

Sierra cursed under her breath. She must have dozed off. She'd only come out to watch the stars, and then creep back into her avarel before everyone else awakened. A ritual she'd been practicing for some time. Kept the rest of the clan from wondering about her sleeping habits, or lack thereof.

"My apologies, Athras. You just startled me," the Grey Warden responded.

"You're up…early," the elf began cautiously, coming around in front of her.

"Very early," she grudgingly admitted, keeping her gaze on the ground.

"Could you not sleep? If there is something wrong with your accommodations-"

"They're fine, Athras," she interrupted, too sharply.

"Forgive me. I'll leave you to your thoughts, then."

The crunch of leaves as he turned to go made Sierra's heart wrench. "Athras, wait."

"Yes, Grey Warden?"

Sierra raised her head to look into her fellow Dalish's eyes. She could read the shock on his face at her appearance. She'd been doing her best to hide it, but… Lack of sleep eventually starts to look like something worse, like a sickness. Maybe she _was_ sick. "Please," she managed, as tears sprang to her eyes, "will you sit with me a moment?"

Wordlessly, Athras placed himself on the ground next to her.

She took a shaking breath, absently twirling one of the errant strands of deep red hair that constantly hung in her face. "I have dreams, Athras. I dream of him." She stared straight ahead, dark eyes hollow.

"I used to dream of Danyla, too. I still do, sometimes. It is always disappointing to wake, but you should not avoid sleeping because of it," he responded kindly.

The Grey Warden turned to face him. The gentle smile he'd gained from thinking he'd solved her problem dissolved instantly. "I see him trapped somewhere with the Archdemon. I see him tortured. Every night. Every time I close my eyes." The tears had overflowed her eyes. She gave a little, heartbroken laugh. "That's the reason I look as…attractive as I do."

Athras took a deep breath and blew it out. "I take it you do not think these to be simple nightmares."

"Whether they are nightmares or visions, it doesn't really matter. I fear I will go mad before I figure it out." Sierra broke her gaze with the gray-haired Dalish and turned to observe the morning bustle of the camp. "I'll have to leave soon. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to trust myself."

Her companion remained silent for a time. She appreciated that he did not make protests about how she couldn't possibly hurt anyone in camp. No. He'd been in Denerim the night of the final battle. He'd seen what she could do with that mighty axe she carried. If she could not longer distinguish friend from foe, the Dalish warriors would be unable to stand against her.

"I remember your man, when you came here the first time," he finally said.

Sierra shot him a glance, but he too was watching the Dalish people go about their daily duties. "Yes?" she prompted, when nothing else was forthcoming.

"I remember thinking, 'What could this _shemlen_ have possibly done to seduce a Dalish elf? Does he ever say anything seriously?'"

Sierra laughed, this time with a bit of joy. "You weren't the only one, I'm sure. I didn't expect many to see what I saw in him."

"Ah, but I did, _lethallin_," Athras assured her. "That night, after Lanaya was made Keeper, around the celebratory fire. I watched him. More accurately, I watched him watch _you_. Such joy in his face, such desire. It made me think that I must have looked like that when I watched Danyla. When you'd catch him watching, he'd blush like a fool, but do his best to hold the stare, to not look away. Ah," the older elf raised his hands in a graceful gesture, "so shy, yet trying to be so brave for his brazen lady."

Sierra bit her lip as her eyes softly unfocused. "You know, I had to proposition him? Such strange rules and laws those _shem_ have. He came to my tent as pure as new snow on the mountains."

"Truly?" Athras chuckled. "How strange."

"I know," agreed the Grey Warden, still staring off into space. "Something about being raised in that religious house, I'm still not altogether clear on it." Her lips widened in a smile. "Didn't stop him from being…eager to learn."

The hunter threw back his head and laughed. "Well, great Dalish beauty can inspire that in a man." Athras pondered the camp again for a time. "Did you love him, _lethallin_?"

Sierra jerked out of her reminiscing. "Did I what? I didn't- He never-" she stammered.

"Peace, Warden, peace," Athras calmed her. "I merely ask because of something you said earlier, about figuring out whether it was nightmare or vision." He paused. "You do not believe it is nightmare, do you?"

Sierra narrowed her eyes. "I don't. I believe he needs me, and I cannot find him. I don't know how." She buried her face in her hands as tears overtook her again.

"If you loved him, _lethallin_, perhaps the way is not as hidden as you think. In love, there is always a way."

"Love doesn't fill my nights with horror. At least I hope not!"

"Love is not always easy, Warden," he chided.

"Oh, indeed. Tell me more gems of wisdom, oh Grandfather!" She batted her eyelashes at him in mock innocence.

"Did you get your sharp tongue from your man, or did you have it all along?" the older elf demanded, sighing exasperatedly.

"Definitely from him," Sierra answered, raising her chin defiantly.

"If you believe these to be visions, then someone, or something, believes love to be a journey, as well," he continued, as if he hadn't had to sidetrack the conversation to scold her.

Sierra sneered. "More likely someone believes love to be exploited, a way to lure a Grey Warden to her death."

Athras rose to his feet and looked down at her. "I suppose the real question is can you live with yourself if you don't find out?"

She stopped, and she thought about the horrible nightmares. Then…his face came to mind, one eyebrow raised and a smirk, as if a sarcastic remark was right on the tip of his tongue. It usually was. "No," she finally answered, "I cannot."

"Then your path is laid out before you. Do you have the courage to hold the madness back long enough to follow it?"

Sierra stared up at him, mouth open slightly in shock. "Path? There is no path!" she half-shouted. "I have nothing to go on!"

"Since he needs you, you better start looking." The Dalish hunter turned and walked away from her.

The younger elf watched him go, mouth hanging completely open now. It was only when he was almost out of shouting distance that she pulled herself back together. "Athras!"

He stopped and turned, a challenging look on his face. "Yes, _lethallin_?"

"Don't ever question a Grey Warden's bravery again!"

He chuckled. "I'll take that as a 'thank you'."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to everyone who favorited my story! You'll keep me writing :). Onward!**

Sierra kicked her pack bad-temperedly as she entered the avarel. She'd wanted to leave almost immediately following her talk with Athras, but Lanaya had insisted she stay one more night. The Keeper had wanted her to "think it over" before she decided to leave her people. Dalish they may be, but these elves were _not_ Sierra's people.

For the past few months, she thought they could be. She had attempted to put her other life behind her, and go back to just being Dalish. It had not worked, not by a long shot. Athras had opened her eyes, showed her the truth. She couldn't walk away from her other life. She had some…unfinished business to attend to.

The elf kicked at her pack again as the creatures of the night began their songs. It would help if she knew exactly what that unfinished business _was_. That would be too easy, apparently. There was definitely business, though, that she could be certain of. The one she had sworn to herself to protect, to honor, needed her. She had failed him once; she would not fail him again.

Flopping down on the floor of the avarel, Sierra crossed her arms determinedly. There was a path, Athras had said so. She believed him. For too long she had allowed herself to be battered down by a problem that seemed unsolvable. One would think she'd have more confidence with unsolvable problems, since she had assisted in crushing a Blight with only a handful of old treaties and one other fellow Grey Warden.

Now that Grey Warden needed her, and if it took her the rest of her life or the rest of her sanity, she would help him.

Leaning across the floor, Sierra dragged a small lamp over and lit its wick. Once its warm glow had filled the avarel with light, she crossed her legs and took a deep breath. To find the path, she had to look at the only bit of information she had. That meant purposefully surrendering to the power of her night terrors. Sleep would come swiftly, she had no doubt. With as exhausted as she was, any time she wasn't moving was fair game to fall asleep on her feet.

She closed her dark eyes. For him, anything.

_She could not see well, as if tears blurred her sight constantly. Her vision was a riot of light and dark spots, which danced and spun in a haze. She wanted to lift her hands and scrub at her eyes, but her arms would not respond. Stumbling blindly, she fell heavily into a wall of rock. Stopping, she leaned against it briefly, trying to breathe._

_ A vague sense of purpose flitted around in her head, but if she tried to focus on it, it slid out of grasp. Had she come here…intentionally? Come to think of it, where was here? _

_ Through sheer force, she managed to get her hands up to rub furiously at her eyes. Her vision cleared. The brightness she had seen was streaking down from the sky in what could be closely compared to lightning, but without the accompanying thunder. A bolt struck right next to her. She felt no heat, no power. Just light._

_ A maze of rock seemed to encase her. Keeping a hand on one of the walls to steady herself, she started walking. It had to end eventually. In theory._

_ The maze spit her out into the open much sooner than she'd expected. Above her, the sky boiled with purples and reds that she'd never seen before. The plain in front of her was an undulating, endless ocean of yellow grasses, swaying in a wind she did not feel against her skin._

_ Looking down at her hands, she could only muster up slight curiosity that they dripped with what appeared to be tar of some kind. As she began making her way through the plain, her hands left black smears on the tall blades._

_ A small noise reached her ears. Weak, at first, but the more she walked the more strength it gained. It sounded like a wounded animal; a high, keening wail of mortal injury. She picked up her pace, trying to find the source. Perhaps she could help the creature, even if it just needed to be put out of its misery._

_ Up ahead, there was an area of flattened grass. The blades were broken and smashed upon their fellows. As she drew closer, she could see the flat area was matted down with…blood? Her strides lengthened. The flattened area grew nearer. The wailing noise grew stronger._

_ She reached the edge and stopped so suddenly she almost lost her balance._

_ There he sat, bent over a broken body. A woman's body, clearly, but her face was hidden from view where he'd crushed it against his chest. He rocked back and forth, jerkily stroking her neck and arms. The sound of anguished hurt came from him._

_ She fell to her knees in the grass and her head sagged down. Would there be no end to his torment? Had he not earned peace? Was she to be forced to watch this for the rest of her life? Was she to be punished, as well, for not protecting him as she'd always thought she should? Each tar-stained hand grasped a handful of grasses, desperately trying to ground herself. To think. To find the way. She watched her knuckles whiten as she tightened her grip._

_ A shriek of agony yanked her head up so fast she thought her neck would break. He'd thrown his head back, voicing his hurt to the uncaring sky. She flinched as the sound continued. Then, since he was no longer hunched over, she saw the woman's face._

_ It was her own._

_ In disbelief, she stared blankly. She was here…and she was there. In his arms. Broken, bloody, and lifeless. She released her death grip on the grass and poked at her own body experimentally. Definitely here. _

_ A spark darted through her mind. This was something fixable, was it not? She was here, she could rectify this. All he had to do was see her, and this torture would end. Could he see her? One way to find out. _

_ On her hands and knees, she started making her way across the space that separated them. The tar on her hands seemed to stick her to the ground, slowing her. His great scream had stopped, and he was back to wailing and rocking, occasionally mumbling to himself. He seemed not to have seen her._

_ She was determined to change that. Narrowing her eyes, she gritted her teeth and moved forward._

_ The tar could not stand up to her sudden resolve. It reluctantly let her continue, hindering her as best it could. The distance grew smaller and smaller. She came closer and closer to him, closer than she'd been since the night on the rooftop. Since she'd failed him. _

_ Almost there._

_ "F-failed…failed you. Forgive me, please please please. Please, forgive me. Sorry sorry s-sorry, so sorry."_

_ Her hand froze in mid-air, mid-crawl. He was mumbling that over and over again, stroking the woman's hair as his hand shook. A strangled snarl of agony escaped between her gritted teeth. How dare whoever had stuck him here make him think he'd failed her? She would put an end to this. Right now._

_ Pushing forward with her knees, she lunged out. Her hand landed on his upper arm. A lance of fire pulsed through her. "Alistair," she gasped around the stabbing pain. "Look at me. Look at me!"_

_ Slowly, he raised his head. At first, he didn't register anything. Her heart skipped a beat at the dead look in his amber eyes. Then it all changed in a wave. Realization came to his face. His eyes widened in shock._

_ She almost sobbed in relief. "I will find you. I promise," she whispered. The pain shooting up her arm was a dull ache now, completely ignorable._

_ His face crumpled in what looked like a mixture of relief and sorrow. He reached a shaking hand toward her face, unshed tears filling his eyes._

_ An unseen force snatched her around the waist and flung her across the plain. She felt unbridled fury seethe through the air. She slammed into the side of the rock maze she'd emerged from. Lying there, her vision spinning, she looked up the side of the wall._

_ It was a fortress. The maze had been a section of the outer wall. Its turrets reached into the bruised sky, and she could see many windows, many balconies. In one of the windows, someone looked down at her. Someone who stepped back out of view quickly._

_ The anger was coming again. She struggled to her feet, almost fell over again. It was coming for her. Her presence was not appreciated, it seemed. Bracing herself against the wall, she set her jaw and prepared to stand her ground. _

_ It came at her like a gust of wind and a wave of water all at once. It pushed her back against the wall, pinned her there like some kind of specimen. The rage came again, thick and hot. She was drowning in it. Using the last breath she had, she screamed his name. In the distance, a dragon bellowed._

There was a sharp, metallic sound. Sierra gasped a huge lungful of air, only to cough it back up. She filled her lungs again; this time the air stayed down. The lamp had been knocked onto its side. Her leg was stretched out. She must have jerked and kicked the lamp, making the metal sound. Reaching out, she quickly righted it before it lit the avarel on fire. The elf silently thanked all the Gods there were. If her body hadn't twitched, she wasn't sure how she would've gotten out.

A grin broke out over her face. Alistair. He'd seen her. She'd spared him from whatever was torturing him, if just for a few moments. If she could do it once, she could do it again. Was this the path?

Her heart told her no. This was simply a temporary solution. It was something, though. A something she might not be able to do readily, at any rate. Not now that…whatever was there had noticed her. It had not liked her interference. Or maybe it had just never known she was there until now. She didn't think so. The presence had not cared that she watched. Now that she was messing around with its prisoner, though. That was not allowed.

Experimentally, she moved her neck and shoulders. No pain. Encouraging that the beating she'd taken had not translated to her actual flesh. That wall had felt more like a solid mountain than a fortress, built by the hands of man.

The fortress! How could she have missed it this whole time? Scrambling for her pack, she dragged out a piece of charcoal and some blank vellum and started sketching immediately. If she had to march all over Ferelden…again…she would _someone_ who could tell her where this fortress was.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ah, my friend, thee comes to see me, at last. To have spent so much time nearby, and not stopped in, I felt that thee had left me in the past."

Sierra squirmed uncomfortably as she looked up at the Elder Tree. "Not my intention, Grand Oak." She sighed. "I've been a bit…lost for a while."

"But now thou art found? A good thing. Did it happen quickly, like a flower from the ground?" he asked, peering down at her from his great height.

"Yes, Grand Oak."

"So formal, so polite. Friends can be more relaxed, especially friends found during a Blight," he scolded with a deep chuckle.

Closing her eyes briefly at the thought of the friends she'd made during the Blight, Sierra clearly her throat. "You're right. Friends don't waste time on formalities. I need your help."

"A chance to repay thee for finding my acorn, my seed? I have longed for such a day to come. Please, proceed."

"Sliding right passed the part where you repaid us by giving us one of your branches to get to the ruins, I suppose," Sierra reminded him. "Do you recognize this fortress?" Standing as tall as she could, on her toes, the elf held up her drawing for the huge tree.

Bending down from his considerable height, he studied the drawing intensely.

"Anything at all would be helpful," she added, a hint of desperation in her voice. If the Grand Oak had no idea, it would be trekking all over the entire country again. She would do it, but it would save her quite a walk if the Tree knew something. Was being pointed in the right direction too much to ask?

Elder Tree looked around the paper to stare at her. The sunlight changed the pattern it threw across her face as it sifted through his branches. "I recognize this, my friend, truly I do. Though bound in this form, I hear spirits as they chatter. Whisperings here and there as they pass through."

"You hear other spirits?" Sierra's eyes flashed eagerly. "Do you know anything about-"

"No, my friend. Thy nightmares are beyond my realm of understanding. For that, I am naught but a dead end," he interrupted, raising a branchy hand. "I will tell thee where this is, if thee makes a promise to this old Tree. Without it, I'll not share a word. Dost thou promise me?"

"What am I promising?" Sierra asked warily. She did not like his change in attitude.

"That thee will not forget thy precarious situation, not at all. Mind and body cannot tolerate this abuse, this strain, for long. Whatever is to be done, it must done quickly, before thee is completely enthralled," the Grand Oak cautioned.

"Enthralled by what?" she demanded, feeling a thrill of fear roll up her spine. The elf squashed it immediately. There was no time to be afraid.

"Thy love is not the only one who can be trapped, you see," he replied sternly. "Keep a tight grip on thyself, or salvation will not be an option for him _or_ thee."

Sierra glared at the wooden face. "I thought you didn't know anything about my nightmares," she snapped at him. The Grand Oak did not answer her. The Dalish elf felt anger throb in her cheeks. "He is worth the risk. He deserves peace." The Tree remained silent, and gave her the clear impression that he would stay that way until she did what she was told. "Fine. I promise."

"Very well, I owe thee. This fortress is on the coast of the Amaranthine Ocean, by the sea. Due south from this very place, it is not hard to find. It stands alone on the sands. To miss it, thee would have to be blind."

Sierra froze for a minute, holding her breath. Had she done it, had she found the path? Perhaps that's why she'd come to Lanaya's clan in the first place. Maybe she was being guided the entire time. Or walking pleasantly into a deadly trap. Whichever.

"Well? Remember thy promise and be gone, before I hold you here, no matter how much you rebel!" he teased, waving a huge arm in a southward direction. Standing up straight, the Grand Oak froze into his normal position, face toward the sky.

Sucking in a huge breath, Sierra snatched her pack off the ground and ran south.

* * *

One certainly could cover quite a bit of ground without that pesky thing called "sleep" getting in the way. Sierra made it to the Amaranthine Ocean much sooner than she thought she would.

Standing on the shore, she watched the waves pound the sands for a while. Breathing deeply, she inhaled the pungent, salty air. Seeing the ocean always did strange things to her. It had in Denerim, even though the docks were nothing compared to his.

She bent down to run the sand through her fingers. Pausing, she watched the tremor that shook her hand with growing alarm. Shaky grip was not something good for someone wielding a battleaxe, generally speaking

If only she could sleep…

Getting back to her feet, she looked up and down the shore. There, to the left. The fortress. When the Elder Tree said "due south from this very place", he meant it, apparently. Picking her way carefully through the dunes, she made her way toward the hulking structure.

Sierra stood at the edge of the outer wall and craned her head back. It was uncanny; it looked exactly like in her nightmare. All those turrets, all those balconies, all those windows. She strolled casually along the wall, dragging her fingers along the rock. It wasn't long before she came to the opening. In her nightmare, it had shown her a plain of golden grasses. Here, it showed her a beach of golden sand. Interesting.

The elf stepped through the opening, and followed the corridor. Maybe if she'd gone the other way in her nightmare, she could've entered the fortress instead of seeing Alistair on the plain. Maybe, maybe, maybe. She thought of something she'd overheard a merchant say in Denerim, "If wishes were horses, than beggars would ride." No riding for her.

A not-entirely-sane giggle slipped out of her mouth. She clapped a hand over her lips to stop the sound, dark eyes wide with shock. Biting the inside of her cheek to ground herself with a bit of pain, she took a deep breath. _Don't lose_ _control, elf,_ she told herself sternly. _Don't show the fear, and you can't feel the fear._

Lose control.

_"Tamlen?" Sierra stood over her old friend's body. Her linen shirt and pants were liberally sprayed with blood. His blood. The darkspawn corruption almost made him unrecognizable…but she could never forget his features, no matter how distorted. _

_ Her fault he came to this end. She should've stopped him from touching that mirror. She should've searched harder for him. She should've- _

_ "Sierra, dear," someone was saying from behind her. "He's gone, my friend. You did him a great kindness-"_

_ She felt a hand on her arm, and the elf shrugged off the touch. "Tamlen?" Reaching down, she shook his shoulder. Now everything was clear; he was just sleeping. "Get up," she demanded. "We'll never get back to camp with you just lying there. You know how much the Keeper hates it when we're late. Come on." _

_"Sierra," the same someone said, "let's go sit by the fire. I'll make you some tea." _

_ She didn't understand who they were or why they kept talking, but it wasn't important. "Get up," the elf repeated. "Get up, Tamlen." Silence. "Get up!" Why wasn't he getting up? They had to get back, it was almost time to move the avarels. Maren had asked her to help with the halla… "GET UP!"_

_ There was screaming. It wouldn't stop. Why couldn't they just be silent? They'd attract all the _shems_ from that village at this rate. She and Tamlen were just trying to get back to camp, the Keeper would be looking for them-_

_ Ice cold water suddenly engulfed her entire body. Her head went under, and quickly came back up. Her mind wrenched itself back to the present. She was in someone's arms, and she looked up into their face in shock._

_ "Sorry," Alistair blurted out. "I…I didn't know what to do. You kind of…went crazy." _

_ Sierra pushed her dripping hair out of her face and looked around. They were in the river they'd camped near that night. He was cradling her in his arms, standing up to his midsection in the water. Her body was pressed against his bare chest. It looked as if he'd simply waded in with her and dunked her under._

_ "Shrieks attacked the camp?" She made it a question, trying to confirm what she thought had happened. He nodded grimly. "Everyone's all right?"_

_ "Leave it to you to think of everyone else at a time like this!" he snorted. "Are _you_ all right?"_

_ Putting a finger on his lips to quiet him, she narrowed her eyes in pain. "With the shrieks…Tamlen?"_

_ Alistair's eyebrows knitted together. "That's what you kept calling him, right before you, um-"_

_ "Lost my mind?" Sierra supplied with a self-deprecating laugh, rubbing her hands over her face._

_ In the starlight reflecting off the water, Alistair looked uncomfortable. "Ah, yes. I'd say that would be an accurate description of what happened."_

_ She winced, imagining how inspiring _that_ must have looked to the people she was supposed to be leading._

_ "Alistair?" a high, strained voice called out from the forest._

_ "She's all right, Leliana," the former templar-in-training called back. _

_ "Leliana, offering me tea," she remembered. Sierra felt her cheeks grow hot as she recalled more. "The screaming I heard. That was me, wasn't it?"_

_ If possible, he managed to look even more uncomfortable. "Yep."_

_ Taking a deep breath, the elf tried to salvage some of her dignity. "All right. I'm better now. You can put me down," she added, managing a weak smile._

_ "Oh, right." Alistair dropped her legs into the water with a splash. _

_ "Thank you for, um, snapping me out of it. I think we should go back so I can apologize to everyone."_

_ A frown came over his face slowly, suspiciously. "Um, sure, though shouldn't I be court-martialed or something for tossing the fearless leader in the river?" _

_ His humor didn't have the same tone it normally did, she noticed. Must still be shaken up. Smiling up at him in what she hoped was a calming way, she patted his arm gently. "You didn't toss me. You carried me in, very gentlemanly. Unless you were just trying to get me wet in my linens." Winking, she purred, "Naughty Chantry boy." _

_ Her fellow Grey Warden suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. "Sierra, stop this!" he demanded, his typically smooth voice filled with an edge she'd never heard before._

_ "Stop what?"_

_ "What you're doing right now. You're burying what happened with…teasing!"_

_ "And who did I learn that from?" the elf snapped, glaring up at him._

_ "Well, that's the only thing I regret teaching you!" he retorted._

_ "What about the throw that tosses you over my shoulder and lays you flat on your back?" she sassed._

_ "Stop it," he barked. "You knew him, right? Tamlen?" he questioned fiercely. Before Sierra could respond, he continued. "I would think you did, since you went from stunned silence to incoherent babbling in record time, which then turned into bloodcurdling screaming, which is when I hauled you out of camp and carried you into the river because you were scaring me to death!"_

_ Any thoughts of attitude had totally left her. Her jaw opened and closed several times before any words came out. "I'm sorry for scaring you," she managed to whisper._

_ That sentence earned her another shake. "Maker's breath, Sierra! You're the leader, but that doesn't mean you aren't allowed to have feelings!"_

_ "Alistair?" It was Leliana again, her voice bewildered this time._

_ "We're FINE!" he bellowed over his shoulder before spinning back around to face her. "It's all right to lose control. Sometimes it's appropriate," he said desperately, "and I'd say now is pretty bloody appropriate!" _

_ She stared up at him. Starlight bled all color from the world, leaving everything in shimmering silvers. His grip on her shoulders was unrelenting. His hair, usually so meticulous, stuck up in a few different directions. The line of lips, so tense…so un-Alistair. Shadows made his amber eyes seem grey, but their effect on her was not diminished. They bore into her with such resolve, she had no chance._

_ Her inner shields splintered to pieces._

_ Tears filled Sierra's eyes. "Oh, Alistair!" she cried out, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face against his chest. "He was my b-best friend!"_

_ Alistair wrapped his arms around her tightly and whispered soothing reassurances in her ear as the water flowed around them. _

"You're a Grey Warden!"

Sierra stumbled against the wall. While she'd been indulging in memory, her body had remembered there was a job to do. She found herself at a huge wooden door. It was currently thrown wide open, with a robed figure standing in the doorway.

"What about it?" she spat out, slurring her words slightly. Reliving the memory had left her feeling disoriented, like she'd closed her eyes and spun around in a circle a few dozen times. Bending over, she put her hands on her knees and let her head hang down.

"I- Well, I mean- It's just…great!" the speaker continued. "I haven't seen another Grey Warden for such a long time!"

"'Another'?" Trying desperately to focus on the figure in the doorway, the elf dug her fingernails into her palms and stood up as straight as she could. "Why can't I sense the taint in you?" she demanded, her eyes stubbornly refusing to focus all the way.

"I would think that would be obvious," the figure chuckled.

Sierra's eyes finally stopped slacking off and did their job. "Oh…" she whispered, jaw falling open. The speaker stood clad in mage's robes, his hair brushing the tops of his shoulders, and a sheepish grin on his face. Nothing odd about him, at all.

Save for the fact that she could see right through him.

"Oh dear," the ghost said, his smile fading as he made eye contact with her. "You can't sleep, can you?"

Sierra shook her head.

"In death?" he asked.

The elf looked at him quizzically for a moment, then she realized he was reciting the Grey Warden motto. "Sacrifice," she finished, nodded emphatically. Tears of grief and gratitude threatened to spill out of her eyes. He understood; he knew. Thank all the Gods there ever were.

"Come in, sister," he beckoned with a sigh. "I need to tell you a story."


	5. Chapter 5

After being led to a small side room, Sierra half-collapsed into the cushioned chair the ghost gestured to. A plume of dust rose around her, and the chair gave a groan of protest.

"Didn't think I weighed that much," she muttered, turning to look at the chair with a stern glare. Furniture shouldn't talk back.

"No one's sat in it for a very long time," the ghost said with a chuckle. "Probably just complaining about that."

"Not trying to be rude but…" Sierra bit her lip and dug her fingers into the old cushion, "you said you had a story to tell me?"

"Ah, yes, forgive me. I'm sure you're in no mood for pleasantries. By the end, Victor wasn't, that's for sure."

"Victor?"

The ghost smiled. "It's been so long since it all happened, and yet I can't forget a single bit. Curse of being trapped this way, I suppose." He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Victor and I grew up together, and joined the Grey Wardens just before the Third Blight-"

"I'm sorry, _Third_ Blight?" Sierra's spine stiffened, her beleaguered mind tallying up the math slowly. "That was…six hundred years ago!"

"That long?" The ghost raised his eyebrows, and let out a surprised shout of laughter. "Well, can't say it felt that way!"

"I guess that's…comforting," she replied, uneasily. "I can't imagine. Aren't you lonely? I mean, how does time feel…for you?"

"'Lonely' is a term for the living, my sister," he said, shaking his head and grinning. "Time is always relative. I know there have been Blights since the Third, I sense the darkspawn surge in the way that goosebumps flare down your skin." His smile softened. "Time has little meaning. I know it passes, but…" He trailed off, ending his sentence with an eloquent shrug.

The elf squirmed uneasily, her current problem temporarily forgotten in the face of curiosity. "Forgive me, you look so young. How did you…?"

"Not as young as you think! But you wish to know how I died?" he finished for her. "You'll have to wait for the end of the story for that, sister." He let his head fall back to stare at the high ceiling, smiling ruefully. "Where are my manners? I call you 'sister', yet I haven't even bothered to ask your name."

"No more rude than I. I haven't exactly asked yours, either," she pointed out, smiling in spite of herself. She liked him. It seemed a sense of humor could survive centuries. That made her feel good, for some reason. "I'm Sierra."

"And I am Topher," he responded. He paused then, looking away. "Or _was_, I suppose."

"You _are_," she corrected earnestly. "I won't interrupt anymore, I promise."

Toper laughed. "I'm sure you'll try to keep that promise, but I won't hold you to it if you feel compelled to speak.

"At any rate, we were bold and brash. Two adventurers ready to give our lives to fighting darkspawn until the end of our days. Seemed preferable to wasting away where we'd grown up. And before you ask, no, I never went to the Circle."

"How'd you manage that?" Sierra blurted out.

"Surely you're familiar with apostates," he teased, winking devilishly at her. "I was taught by…others like me. As I'm sure you're aware, Grey Wardens don't particularly care where you learned to be a mage."

"No, they do not," she agreed cheerfully.

"Anyway, the Blight began soon after our Joining, and we got our wish of battling more darkspawn than we could count.

"But before the Blight, at Weisshaupt, Victor met Pria, a Grey Warden a handful of years our senior. She was a beautiful rogue, talented and sharp-tongued. He took one look at her and, well," Topher paused, smiling at Sierra, "you know how the story goes.

"We became a trio of sorts. I was never jealous of their love. Pria joked that I was the kid brother she'd never had, and Victor would say that he was willing to share, since I'd been _his_ kid brother since we could run fast enough to outrun our frazzled mothers.

"The Blight seemed to last forever, the fighting never ceasing. The Orlesians and the Tevinters bickering back and forth while people suffered and died at the feet of the darkspawn hordes. We never paid much attention to that. We fought together. Didn't matter where, didn't matter for how long, didn't matter how long we were away from real beds or anything resembling real food.

"We loved every second of it. Victor with his great sword, Pria with her twin blades, and me with my-" he wiggled his fingers and gave Sierra a wink. "We were invincible."

Sierra pressed her lips together, and felt tears roll down her face. The wistful look on his face was almost too much to bear. She knew the feeling of being an unstoppable team. Leliana, Morrigan, herself…and Alistair.

"Then, there was Hunter Fell." Topher stopped, looking up at the ceiling again. "I remember afterwards, as I led Victor away, thinking that I'd never seen so many bodies in my life. To be a Grey Warden for fifteen some years, almost all those years during a Blight, and still…" He stopped again, and shifted his gaze to her. "I'd never seen so many bodies. It was about the only coherent thought I could manage after that battle. You see, Pria had-" Abruptly, the ghost hung his head.

"She killed the Archdemon, didn't she?" Sierra whispered after a few moments.

"Indeed she had," Topher agreed, laughing sadly. "Naturally, being the daredevils we were, we were among the first to reach the Archdemon. It had become a bit of a joke between us. We argued the entire Blight, usually drunk, about who was going to get the final blow."

"But…there were plenty of Grey Wardens with you. None of you had to die!" Sierra half-shouted. Her heart thudded, sick with envy. So many Grey Wardens, so many choices. Instead, it had been her and Alistair. No choice, or so she'd thought. She'd never figured on Alistair's…planning.

Smiling, Topher shook his head. "It was part of the job. We would be proud to die to stop the Blight." He saw the look on her face, and misinterpreted it. "Make no mistake, we weren't suicidal fools out for glory. We just joked to ease the tension. If the opportunity came, we knew we couldn't hesitate. So, we bragged and blustered.

"Wardens surrounded the Archdemon, along with the armies of Orlais and the Tevinter Imperium. Never had I seen anything like it. Seasoned, feared warriors were falling faster than I could count. Grey Wardens crumpled all around us. We fought on, unstoppable as we'd always been." Topher stared off into space again, then ran his fingers through his ephemeral hair. "Something, I think it was a catapult, got a lucky shot. The missile broke one of the dragon's front legs. I felt like its scream shook the world.

"That's when Victor, much stronger than me, grabbed my hands and twisted them behind my back. Pria, with her nimble fingers, bound my wrists. 'Sorry, little brother', she said, 'no glory for you.' Victor tossed me clear of the fighting. They turned to each other with grins of accomplishment on their faces, love in their eyes. Trussed up like I was, I could do nothing. They'd planned this all along, and I seethed with rage.

"How could I save them? How could I ensure that their love survived now?" Turning sad eyes to her, he nodded. "You understand, don't you? I was furious because they wouldn't let me save them. They deserved to live, and spend the rest of their lives together. I was expendable."

"I understand," the elf answered hollowly. Similar rage had wracked her body after the Archdemon had fallen in Denerim. For a lot of reasons…

"But then, ah, Pria proved herself to be the _true_ mastermind. Pointing over Victor's shoulder, she gestured toward…something. When he turned, that sly bitch!" Topher burst out laughing, his tone taking the insult out of the word. "Pria took the pommel of her longsword and bashed Victor in the back of the head. He crumpled like a maiden swooning at the feet of the King!" He laughed again.

"That's what I should've done," Sierra grumbled to herself. "Pommel strike."

Though he raised an eyebrow at her words, he continued. "Pria winked at me, and bent low to kiss Victor's forehead. Without another backward glance, she dove at the Archdemon. The light was blinding. It seemed like it would bring the sky crashing down on all of us."

"Like the world is about to rip in half," Sierra added, nodding.

"Exactly," he agreed. "In the aftermath, someone was kind enough to cut my bonds without asking any questions. I collected Victor, who was coming around by now. When he saw me, he didn't need me to tell him. He just whispered, 'Never bet against a woman, Topher.' He fell into a bit of a stupor after that. Thankfully, someone else had already taken Pria's body. Victor wouldn't have been able to carry her. He could barely follow me. I ended up having to hold his hand to lead him, like he used to do to me when we were kids."

Sierra thought of Tamlen, and bit the inside of her cheek. The tears flowed a bit stronger.

"It wasn't long after that when the nightmares began. Victor said he saw Pria being tortured, trapped with the Archdemon, suffering every agony imaginable. He stopped trying to sleep. You'd find him in the practice yard in the middle of the night, clanging away with his great sword."

Her own nightmares flashed before Sierra's eyes, and she swallowed the sick feeling that rose in her throat.

"We left headquarters; no one understood what was happening. They were inclined to think Victor was just having a hard time letting go. We knew better. We knew _something_ was going on.

"This fortress belonged to the family of one of our brothers who'd fallen at Hunter Fell. He was always talking about the way the sun shined off the Amaranthine Ocean in the light of dawn. Being the last of his line, we knew no one would be here. We just felt like we had to get away from everything, everyone. Maybe then we could figure it out. We poured over the details of his nightmares, looking for…anything.

"Faith is hard to have when you have nothing but your gut feeling telling you there's something to find."

Sierra snorted with bitter laughter. "Tell me about it."

Topher gave her a kind smile. "You come here alone, and so I guess you've been on your own since the Archdemon fell. You have my sympathies, sister. I don't know how you've done it."

"Sheer stubbornness," she replied.

The ghost laughed. "I've no doubt. As far as things to find, Victor said he sometimes saw me there. I always seemed out of place, and not involved with the rest of the nightmare, but we could never make any sense of that.

"It got worse for Victor. He wasn't making sense all of the time, and he wouldn't sit still. The constant pacing, usually accompanied by talking to himself…I began to fear for him. I told him he had to sleep a little bit or his body was going to shut down. That conversation didn't go over very well. We fought a lot, towards the end. Such a shame to waste what little time was left.

"One night, I heard Victor shouting from his rooms. Assuming he was having a nightmare, I went to wake him. He'd made me promise to do that every time, as quickly as possible. When I opened the door, I found him up, facing the window. I remember the way the moonlight pooled into the room, lighting it like a dozen lamps.

"I called his name, and as he turned to face me, I realized he wasn't…himself. Either his nightmare had such a tight grip on him that he wasn't there, or the sleep deprivation had finally driven him over the edge. Regardless, I knew that, at that moment, I was not in the presence of a friend.

"Before I could even whisper a spell, it was too late."

"Too late for what?" demanded Sierra, although she already knew the answer. Obviously, the proof of it sat before her.

"Too late to stop him from killing me, of course," Topher answered with a small shrug. "I didn't feel much. At least I don't think I did. That part is the only part of my memory that isn't very clear. I suppose I should be thankful for small favors. With Victor's battle prowess, I would bet that it happened quickly."

Sierra felt like she couldn't breathe. It hadn't just been paranoia that she needed to leave the Dalish, leave everyone. She really _was_ a danger to others. Wonderful.

"I didn't enter the Fade, at all," Topher continued. "There were a few moments of nothing, then I was back here. Standing in the hallway, a few feet away from Victor and," he gave another short burst of laughter, "my body. He came back to his senses slowly. Then, his screams of anguish." The ghost closed his eyes briefly, and Sierra could see the pain etched in his face. "They were almost too much to bear.

"I tried to talk to him, to tell him I was still there, but I couldn't get him to see me. Clearly, you can see me, so it's not that I'm invisible. Maybe he was just too far gone.

"He carried me out to the courtyard and buried me. It was so surreal. I can't begin to explain what it's like to see-"

"I know better than you think," Sierra interrupted, rolling her shoulders uncomfortably.

Topher eyed her with interest. "You've seen yourself in your lover's arms?"

"By the Gods, you're good!" she laughed, slamming her palms on the arms of the ancient chair.

He shrugged modestly as his eyes twinkled. "Eh, I've had a long time to think about….everything."

"I assume you're going to tell me what you've concluded?" the elf asked, a trifle sharply.

"I understand your impatience, sister, but I insist you hear the entire story. You'd better warm up your voice, too, since I won't tell you anything I _think_ I've discovered until you tell me _your_ story, too," he pointed out.

"What does my story have to do with anything? Just tell me!" Without warning, rage poured off her like steam. She didn't remember doing it, but she was on her feet with her axe in hand. Fine vibrations shivered up and down her body, generating a hum that buzzed in her ears at the perfect pitch. The only way the sound could be more perfect was if it were accompanied by the sounds of metal on metal, of death.

Topher raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, a berserker. Seems to me you left the company of innocent bystanders just in time." He paused, then crossed his arms. "You do not scare me, Sierra. I'm already dead, in case you've forgotten."

The axe fell out of her hands with a great clatter. The vibrations became shaking, which overtook her body. Had she just done that? Been ready to slice her companion in two, for absolutely no good reason? There was less time than she'd thought, apparently. She fell back into the chair, burying her face in her hands. "I'm….sorry, Topher. I didn't even-"

A tingling invaded her hands, like they were slowly regaining feeling after being numb. Raising her head, she saw Topher crouched before her. His translucent hands were against hers. As if he'd tried to pull them away from her face, which, of course, had not worked. He smiled at her, half in self-mocking and half in sympathy. "Hard to comfort the heroine when you're incorporeal," he said sourly, "but I tried."

"My hero," she said without thinking, batting her eyelashes. It made her heart pick up speed. Something like that never would've occurred to her before she'd met Alistair. Her breath stilled in her throat. "Please," she whispered. "I'll tell you anything you want. Just please, help me."

The dead mage's eyes filled with sadness. "I will, sister, as much as I can." He stood up, backing away from her a bit. "Well, there's not much left to tell. After Victor buried me, he turned his blade on himself."

"He did _what_?" Sierra burst out, unable to stop herself. "But Pria, she needed him!"

Topher gestured angrily. "I wasn't exactly in a position to stop him. I begged, screamed, cursed, and ranted. He couldn't hear me." He paced back and forth, wringing his hands. "His bones are still out in the courtyard. I could not do him the same justice he did me in burying my body."

"He didn't…stay here? Like you?"

"No." He laughed bitterly, for the first time showing negativity about his situation. "Apparently, my sins were more than I realized to receive this punishment."

"There are no sins," Sierra spat, "just Chantry-induced guilt in an attempt to make you _shemlen _behave!"

"Oh ho!" Topher placed his hands on his cheeks comically. "A bit of religious anger, dear elf?"

"I have a bone to pick with the Chantry." Smiling in spite of herself, she stuck her tongue out at him. Her face quickly fell back into more serious lines. "Do you know if he found her?"

"I don't know. What goes on in the Fade is mostly hidden from me, as I'm stuck here. Besides, I doubt our trouble is as simple as all that, my sister." Crossing his arms again, he raised his eyebrows expectantly. "That is my tale. Now, you tell me yours. Then I shall tell you what I _think _I know. I make no promises."

"I was led here," she responded, staring at him intently. "I _know_ you can help me."

His eye narrowed. "Your faith is heartening and frightening all at once."

Sitting forward, she placed her elbows on her knees and clapped her hands together. "You ask for my story? You shall have it…brother."


	6. Chapter 6

Quite sure she'd never talked so much in her life, Sierra sat back. She let her head loll against the back of the chair, arms limp at her sides. Her retelling of the Fifth Blight had involved yelling, tears, more yelling, even more tears, and joyous recollection. She felt completely drained…and oddly free.

"What happened to your companions?" he finally asked. "Your mabari?"

She swallowed the sob that tried to slide up her throat. "He fell, at the front gates of Denerim. It's the only time I saw Oghren show an emotion other than falling down drunk. He was…practically crying. Telling me how sorry he was, and that he tried to watch him, but in the heat of battle," Sierra lifted her hands weakly, then dropped them. "It wasn't his fault, obviously. I told him that. Don't know how convincing I was. I was about as useful as Victor was after the Archdemon fell."

"And the others?"

"Wynne became an advisor to Anora, I think. Sten went home, and Oghren…" She blinked, dazedly. "Last I talked to him, he was going on about a bet with Bann Teagan. Something about a barrel of pickle juice. Gods willing, he survived _that_!" Despite the subject matter, the elf laughed. She could never do much else when it came to Oghren.

"And Leliana?"

Wincing in pain, she whispered, "Revered Mother in the Chantry in Denerim. I was so awful to her afterwards. Thinking about it is almost as awful as thinking about Zevran."

"Ah, that was not your fault," Topher assured her. "From what you told me, he was extremely opportunistic."

"I could've talked to him more," she disagreed, shaking her head. "Gotten to know him better. Maybe then he wouldn't have sided with Taliesen. Thinking about _that _is almost as awful as-" Her jaw clamped shut.

"As Alistair?" Topher supplied.

"Yes," she breathed.

"Your tale is extraordinary, sister," the ghost said after a few minutes of silence. "Truly. I don't know how you did it, with just the two of you to rally a nation."

"There wasn't much of a choice, was there?" Sierra replied. "Grey Wardens we were, with our very own Blight. Just the two of us. That's not something you can walk away from." Sitting up slowly, she fixed her bloodshot eyes on her companion. "I have paid for your information in sleepless nights, tears, and talk, brother. It is time for your confession, is it not?"

"Indeed. It is not much," he warned.

"It will be enough," Sierra countered. "It has to be."

"Your confidence is more than I deserve. At any rate, I have spent my time trying to communicate with spirits, pushing as far into the Fade as I can, which is not far. If it were, I would be able to tell you what happened to Victor and Pria. All the spirits who have been willing to talk to me all convey the same thing, though: love is a blessing…and a curse."

"A curse?" she echoed.

"Your love is trapped in the Fade. He did not cross over into the place where those go who die. To whatever afterlife there is to be had. He remains near to the dreamers."

"I _do_ wish everyone would stop saying that!" she snapped irritably. "He never exactly told me he loved me, you know!"

Topher laughed. "An interesting thing to argue about at the moment. It is a moot point, regardless. You are a lucky woman, Sierra. Very few women get what you have."

"Which is what? A man I've slept with tormenting all the hours of all my days? Pretty common, mage," she snarled.

"You'll want to learn to keep a lid on your temper, sister," the ghost scolded sternly. "You'll need the practice down the road, I'm sure. No, what you have is proof of love. You see, Alistair would not be in the trouble he's in if he did not love you."

All the breath left her in a great exhale. Despite the situation, lack of sleep, and temper, she felt a blush of girlish joy crawl up her cheeks at his words. "Explain…please," she managed.

"Thought that might shut you up," he said pleasantly. "To make things as concise as possible, Alistair's love for you kept his soul from crossing over. He did not want to leave you, and so he became confused, lingering in the Fade."

"Last time I checked 'trapped' and 'confused' meant two different things. Besides, almost everyone who dies doesn't want to leave their loved ones behind," she pointed out, "yet I don't see everyone else suffering nightmares."

"So impatient. I will _tell _you the equation where 'confused' becomes 'trapped'. As for everyone else in the world, well, they don't pay me to have all the answers, sister," he chuckled. "Perhaps it has something to do with the taint, or with the sacrifice. I know not. What I _do_ know is that he was confused, and the spirits tell me that is the reason."

"So, confused. Then what?"

"As you know, when demons enthrall mortals, they gain energy from the living body. It's why they do it, and keeping their 'hosts' content is a priority. However, there is nothing to gain from a random soul with no body."

"So if there's nothing to gain…" Sierra was failing to see where this was going.

"Why not enjoy themselves?" he finished.

The elf looked at him, bewildered. The epiphany came with all the subtlety of a thunderclap. "The demons! They found him, wandering around, and they trapped him! Just to…torture him!"

"Yes, they did," Topher said gravely. "To torture _both_ of them."

The lack of sleep was really taking its toll on her brainpower, but Sierra completed this leap faster than the last. "The Archdemon. Alistair's really there, with Urthemiel."

The former mage nodded. "When Alistair killed the Archdemon, their souls left this world at the same time, and so when your love became trapped, so did the dragon."

"So the demons, for sheer enjoyment, torture them with their greatest fears."

"Maker only knows what Urthemiel sees," Topher replied. "It is through your love for Alistair that you can see what he's going through. It is a window to his pain."

"It's not only a window. Occasionally, it's a door," she pointed out. When his eyes got wide, Sierra couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, did I surprise the all-knowing mage? I have interacted with Alistair in his illusions. Just once. I wore out my welcome promptly after that. I'm assuming it was one of the demons who attacked me."

"Victor never said anything like _that_!" he exclaimed. "Alistair saw you, spoke to you?"

"Saw me, he did not speak," she answered. "I'm not certain it's going to be an option available to me anymore. The demons were not pleased."

"Maybe that's the way! If you can talk to him, convince him it's not real, he can move on!"

Sierra considered it, then shook her head. "No. My heart tells me that's not the answer. I am being shown his torment for a reason. A tangible, actual reason. If it was as easy as all that, I don't think I would've been led here. I figured that out on my own. No offense," she added, giving him a lop-sided smile.

"None taken," the ghost grinned. "But _why_ were you led here?" he asked seriously. "I have nothing to offer except my own tale, and the truth. The truth will not help you save him."

"Maybe you offer more than that." Sierra rose and paced the room, feeling her energy beginning to reach electric levels. So close, so close! There must be a reason, there must be a way. She had not survived all she had to be defeated now. Alistair had not sacrificed his life to spend eternity tormented by demons. This _could not_ be the lot of Grey Wardens in love. Love is no punishment, it is a gift.

"How were you led here, exactly?" Topher asked.

"I saw this fortress, in some way, in all my nightmares of Alistair. Though I guess they're not nightmares, more like visions. When Alistair saw me, this fortress was there in the nightmare, instead of just a flash of an image, like it usually was. I saw a figure in one of the windows. You, I presume," she answered. Pausing thoughtfully, she added, "In his visions, Victor saw you, too."

"I am no deciding factor, no key to this puzzle!" he said hurriedly, shaking his head. "I hold no secret knowledge, I assure you."

"You are a mage…"

"Were," he corrected cheerfully.

Sierra raised an eyebrow at him. "Shall we argue semantics?"

"Seems like something _you_ enjoy doing, miss he-never-said-he-loved-me."

The elf had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. "Point taken. Fine. You _were_ a mage. Mages tap into the Fade for their powers, and constantly fight off demons attempting to turn them into abominations…" She stopped, frozen.

"Yes, what about it? Sierra? What is it?"

"Wait, wait, wait," she hissed. Any sound might scare off the idea that was forming in her head. No sudden movements, it would turn and run. It was coming, slowly but surely. "Mages can summon the benevolent spirits, yes?"

"Yes…" he answered slowly, "but they are generally not interested in the affairs of mortals. Calling them is no mean feat."

"But it can be done!" She clenched and unclenched her fists, feeling the nervous energy threaten to drown out her thoughts before they could be fully formed. "Could a spirit enthrall someone the same way a demon can?"

"Perhaps, but why would they want to?" It was the ghost's turn to stare at her in confusion.

"Don't you see!" Sierra practically jumped for joy. She had it now, oh yes, oh yes. All the answers, the path, the way. She had it all. "A mage could call a spirit, who could enthrall me, allowing me to walk the Fade. Just like we did to save the Circle! I had my weapons then, my armor, my pack, everything! I could go to the Fade, find Alistair, and drive the demons away!

"If the demons are what hold him there, he'll be free to cross over once I defeat them. That's why Victor saw you, you're a mage! That's why I saw you-"

"Because I'm a dead mage?" he questioned, looking at her warily. "Sierra, I don't think this is going to work. Benevolent spirits don't care much about the mortal world."

"Then why did they talk to you? Why did Victor and I have visions? _Something_ is sending them, giving us all the clues! Something wants to help us!" Exhausted by her burst of enthusiasm, she collapsed back into the chair. "It all makes sense," she whispered.

"Is there nothing I can do to convince you otherwise?" Topher asked, resigned.

"Brother, you could not convince me otherwise if you turned into a sloth demon before my eyes," she teased, grinning widely at him.

Sighing in exasperation, he looked at the ceiling. "Maker bless your Alistair for putting up with your stubbornness."

"Ha! It was I who needed blessings for dealing with _him_," she laughed. Taking a deep breath, she got to her feet again. "I should get going."

"Where? Where are you going?" Topher demanded. "I don't know that you should-"

"You're going to help me with that," the elf hinted, shouldering her pack. She felt better than she had since, well, since the day she'd looked up into those amber eyes. He'd just told off a grumpy mage, who stomped off in a huff, bumping into Sierra on his way. A blush crawled up her cheeks as she remembered his warm smile.

"I'm sure you'll enlighten me about that in your own time, but I feel I should tell you a bit more about your…condition before you go running off," Topher warned, holding up his hands to stop her.

"Like what?"

"Like those memory lapses are going to get worse."

"How did you-?"

"When I saw you in the outside tunnel. Your eyes were open, but totally blank. You walked like, well, like a corpse. It's the only reason you're still alive, probably. I think they're substituting for sleep at this point. Short little micro bursts of sleep. It seemed like that's what happened for Victor. You're going to need someone with you, to shepherd you along and defend you when things like that happen."

"I'll not put anyone's life in danger," she said adamantly. "I'll not murder a friend."

"Then I don't think you'll make it to the next-to-impossible task of getting a benevolent spirit to enthrall you," he retorted.

She glared at him for a moment. Damn him and his logic. He was right. She needed someone. One problem at a time, she supposed. "What else?" Sierra finally growled.

"Hallucinations, tremors, head aches, nausea. Pretty much a veritable cornucopia of unpleasantness." The ghost narrowed his eyes. "You do not have much time."

"Clock is ticking," she agreed.

"Where are you going to find your mage? The Circle isn't going to be pleased, I don't care how much they owe you."

"My dear Topher," Sierra smiled, "you are not the only apostate I know."

"Morrigan?" he said, cocking his head to the side. "You said she disappeared right before the battle in Denerim without a trace."

"That's how you're going to help me. _You_ are going to ask the spirits to find her."


	7. Chapter 7

"Well, that's it," Topher said. He was standing in the doorway to the fortress. "You have your information, and you have no further use for me." Sighing deeply, he looked to the sky. "Cruel Fate, to be used by such a beautiful woman."

Sierra laughed brightly. "Ah, my brother. If I could take you with me, I would."

"If I could go with you, my sister, I would," he responded. "Instead, here I remain to watch the heroine disappear over the horizon." The former mage became serious then. "If you succeed, come back and tell me. I…I want to know."

"I will," she promised. Reaching out to him, the elf smiled warmly. The pins-and-needles sensation came again as the ghost touched his translucent fingers to hers.

"Do you know how beautiful you are when you smile? Oh, if I were alive," he teased, letting out a lovelorn sigh, "I'd take a run at making you forget Alistair."

She laughed again. "My friend, such a task is impossible."

"Such is life," he shrugged, winking. "But, since I am dead…" Coming forward, he brushed his ephemeral lips against hers.

The tingling feeling rushed across her lips in a wave, making her gasp a little bit. "I won't forget you, Topher. You gave me hope, and helped me find the way." Her dark eyes stung with tears.

"Be safe, sister dear. Find your man, and then tell the Grey Wardens of your triumph, so that no one else has to suffer as you have. As Victor did."

"I will."

"Are you going after Morrigan now?"

She shook her head. "I have to make a small side trip first. I have a shepherd to collect."

Topher stared at her for a moment, and then a smile came over his face. "Ah, yes. Good girl."

"Goodbye, Topher."

"Goodbye, Sierra."

* * *

The great wooden doors loomed before her in the waning light. Pulling the hood of her cloak more securely in front of her face, she squared her shoulders. She was about to do some serious groveling. Raising a gloved hand, she pounded on the door.

The door swung inward after a few moments. "Hello?" asked a young woman, dressed in the modest Chantry dress. "Can I help you?"

Sierra cleared her throat, trying to ensure she sounded marginally normal. "I'm looking for the Revered Mother."

The girl's face became suspicious. "We're, um, locking the doors for the evening. Perhaps if you came by in the morning…"

"Please, it's quite urgent," she pressed, feeling her temper ripple along the edges of her consciousness. She clamped down on it swiftly, remembering what Topher said. "I'm an old friend. If she's cross, I'll take all the blame, I swear."

The suspicion remained, although it was mixed with some uncertainty now, as well. "Well, I don't really know. She's in prayer right now. She doesn't really like to be disturbed when she's praying."

"Just tell her…tell her if she doesn't shut that nug up, it'll be given to my war dog."

The girl's face looked comical in its shock. It might have been her surprise that finally worked in Sierra's favor. "Um, all right. I'll go tell her. Wait here."

The elf wasn't waiting long. She had a few seconds of warning by the sounds of feet shod in soft shoes pattering against stone floor before the door swung open all the way.

"Sierra?" Leliana whispered, pretty mouth hanging open. "Is it you? Truly?"

"Is there anyone else who would threaten your precious nug?" the Grey Warden replied. Her companion looked just the same as she always had: delicate, beautiful, and trustworthy. It felt so good to be near someone she felt so comfortable with.

"Oh, my friend!" She went to take a step forward, then hesitated. Clapping her hands together, she bit her lip as tears ran down her cheeks. "It is…good to see you. Let me see your gorgeous face-"

"No," Sierra said sharply, ducking her head away from the Revered Mother's reaching hand. "I'll explain, I promise."

A bit taken back, Leliana's eyes narrowed. "There is something you are not telling me, yes?"

"Can't I get to the part where I beg your forgiveness before we move right on to the favor?" Sierra demanded, laughing.

"You don't have to do that," she replied quickly. "I betrayed your trust, sided with-" The bard stopped, swallowing her words. "It's just…I couldn't bear to-"

"Leliana, please. I know why you did it. I have to apologize for my reaction. It was unfair. After it happened, I-" She bit her lip hard, and felt the coppery taste of blood seep into her mouth. Her vision blurred, and streaks of heat darted down her cheeks. Damn those treacherous tears.

Leliana's embrace was swift and tight. The elf's armor rattled at the force of the bard's hug, startling them both. "Leave it to you to still be wearing that stinking armor," the Orlesian scolded. She pulled back, bending her head to try to see under the hood of Sierra's cloak. "Let's run away, hmm? I'll take you to Orlais, and we'll go shopping for days. You'll have a pretty dress for every day of the year."

The Grey Warden laughed, wiping determinedly at the tears on her face. "I can't. There's something I need to do, and I need your help."

"Anything, my friend," Leliana agreed fervently.

"It won't be easy," the elf warned.

"'Not easy' is my middle name, no?" she countered, presenting a winning smile.

"You'll have to leave the Chantry…again."

Leliana waved a hand in the air in dismissal. "I carry the Maker in my heart. I do not lose His presence by leaving this building. You know this."

"Well, keep Him in your heart, and not in my ears." Sierra felt a smile tug at her lips.

"I'll covert you yet, my dear Dalish elf." The Revered Mother wagged her finger at the cloaked warrior like she was a disobedient child.

"Don't hold your breath!" Sierra replied with a burst of laughter. Leliana's presence felt so good: warm, inviting, and simple. But there were more serious matters at stake nowadays. More serious than the Blight? By all the Gods, yes. "Can you leave the Chantry? Being the Revered Mother and all? Don't they need your, um, divine leadership?"

"Pilgrimages are not uncommon," Leliana assured her with a roguish wink. "I can say I am doing that. As for my position, there are a few capable sisters who can be hastily promoted to watch the place. Temporarily or permanently…should I choose never to return." The Orlesian grinned while giving a complex shrug.

"Leliana, I don't want to take you away from this again, if it's what you truly want," Sierra protested, beginning to feel alarmed at how easily the bard was ready to leave.

"The Maker has bound me to you, as surely as He bound you to the Grey Wardens. I can do nothing else but follow you. It is my calling, more so than a building can ever be."

Sierra felt the tears coming again. Such beautiful, pure faith. She envied it…sort of. "You honor me, my friend. Truly. In the face of such devotion, I must be completely honest with you." The elf reached up and pulled her hood down.

The bard's face went from happy to anguished in the blink of an eye. "Oh, Maker!" she cried. "What has happened to you? Who has done this to you?" She reached a shaking hand out to touch the warrior's face.

The Grey Warden let her this time. She must look truly awful to provoke this kind of reaction. She'd been avoiding mirrors since…well, ever really. The Dalish didn't really keep them around. Leliana's touch felt smooth and clean, and she briefly closed her eyes. "It is a long story, my Orlesian spy. I hope you weren't too tired this evening."

"No, no, of course not," she replied. "Come on, we'll talk in my room." She put an arm around Sierra's shoulders, and led her into the darkened doorway.

* * *

Dawn's light began creeping its way through the streets of Denerim, tendrils of warmth seeking to dispel all the shadows within their reach. Sierra welcomed the heat that began at her heels and started slowly working its way up her calves. This had always been her favorite time of day. This, and dusk. The sun's departure and return made her stop and catch her breath, always. But she wasn't watching the sunrise now.

She looked up at the monument. Originally, Anora had insisted it be of Sierra, but the elf had sternly refused. In the end, she'd had to make up some Dalish superstition to get out of it. Instead, thank the Gods, it was a griffon. The creature's head was high and its eyes watchful, wings slightly out as if ready to take flight at any moment. Between its massive front paws rested a plaque.

"To those who fell to defend this city and end the Fifth Blight, and to the Grey Warden, who put duty before his personal desires. We remember them always," Sierra read out loud, lips twisting slightly.

She had fought with the Queen for what seemed like hours about the wording on the plaque, too. Compromises had been made on both their parts to get what they truly wanted. For Sierra, she had managed to escape any mention. For Anora, she had managed to keep Alistair's actual name from being there. It made the elf shake with anger. The unfairness of it all gnawed at her mind.

Her lips twisted again, this time with grim satisfaction. She had gained _one_ other concession from the Queen. Reaching out, she stroked the base of the monument, where the griffon stood. Only she and a few others knew that Alistair's ashes lay underneath the creature's stone feet.

"Oh, dear one," she whispered, running her fingers along the smooth stone. "I miss you terribly. The world is not the same without you. I didn't know how much of life I was missing until I met you. You opened my eyes to so many things, so many wonders and little joys. Now the world is colorless, tasteless.

"You always praised my leadership, but it was _you_ who made me a good leader. You see, I couldn't bear to let you down. I could only lead with you backing me up, your strength at my back.

"Now I'm crying again. Look what you do to me. I sought an end to the Blight, for duty, yes, but more for love. I could not wait for our lives together. Had I known what you planned, I-" The skin stripped off her knuckles as her hand clenched convulsively against the stone. She sucked in her breath sharply, to stop the usual rant before it started. "That's not the point. I came to beg your forgiveness for not figuring this out sooner. I promise you I'll come find you, and set you free. You deserve peace, and I will ensure you get it."

"It is not your fault."


	8. Chapter 8

Sierra spun around to see Leliana walking towards her, holding a bundle in her hands. The redhead had discarded her modest Chantry dress for her old, light armor. The crossbow peeked over her shoulder; a deadly predator lurking from behind cover. "It feels like it's my fault," the Grey Warden responded.

"It is not," the bard reasserted. "When you weren't in my room, I knew I'd find you here," she said, changing the subject.

"Not a terribly farfetched assumption," the elf agreed. "It's a little bit of false comfort, talking to him like he's here."

"I remember when I first met you." She stared off into space. "So serious, so intent on being the best leader you could be. Not unkind, not unfriendly, just very…intense. As you became interested in each other, you came alive like I've never seen happen to anyone," Leliana mused, a small smile on her face. "You were still an excellent leader, but you relaxed. He made you more…human."

"He made me a lot of things I never would've been without him, I suspect."

"I've been keeping a few things for you," Leliana said, apropos of nothing.

Sierra looked at her strangely. "After everything I said to you?"

She shrugged. "It did not mean that one day you would not want them. Here."

Sierra took what her friend offered and ran her fingers over it. What was this? It looked like a belt of some kind with a pouch hanging off of it- Oh, Gods! "His war harness?" she breathed.

"Oghren took it off him. You were so…grief-stricken when you talked to him that he couldn't give it to you. He let me have it later. I...modified it a bit so you could wear it yourself, like a belt," the bard explained, blushing a bit.

The Grey Warden held it up to her nose, then laughed tearfully. "It still smells like him!"

The Orlesian wrinkled her nose. "Yes, well, it could not be helped. I know how much you Fereldans appreciate your canines, however."

"And this…?" The elf pulled at the drawstrings on the pouch and reached inside. What she pulled out stopped her heart. "Are these what I think they are?"

_ "I remember thinking how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness. I probably should've left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I've had it ever since. I thought that I might give it to you, actually. In a lot of ways I think the same thing when I look at you. I was just thinking that here I am doing all this complaining and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You've had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden since your Joining. Not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fighting and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are amidst all this darkness."_

_ She looked down at the flower. The rose seemed so delicate in her hands, and yet its scent came up to envelop her, surround her. Just like he did. Looking up, she saw his amber eyes filled with pleading and vulnerability. Lifting the rose without breaking eye contact with him, she nuzzled it gently with her nose. The smile of delight on his face was enough to make her knees turn to sand._

"I know how much it meant to you. To the both of you. I saved it, dried it, and collected them."

The rose petals had retained their deep red color. In the early morning light, they seemed to glow. Sierra's hand trembled as she held them. Ah, what she wouldn't give to live in her memories. If there was one good thing about this insanity, reliving all of their time together was it. The hue of the petals darkened as her tears fell on them.

"There's one more thing," Leliana said shyly. "It's in the bottom."

The Grey Warden plunged her hand in deeper, being careful of the petals. She felt delicate chain and pulled it out. "Oh, Leliana…" The silver caught the sunlight, but the cracks that covered its surface reflected the light strangely. Andraste's Flame could still be clearly since, despite the fissures that marred it. "I remember taking this off his…body, but I don't remember what I did with it."

"You gave it to me," the spy said. "Without speaking to me, of course." She cleared her throat awkwardly.

Sierra stared at the redhead, her mouth hanging open. "Why did you do all this? When I was so awful to you, when I blamed you for-"

"I blamed myself, too," she interrupted. "Please, I ask you as my friend, do not speak of the aftermath of the battle anymore. You feel you must apologize, I feel there is no need. I feel I must atone for my part, you feel there is no need. We waste our time arguing about who is sorrier, as women are wont to do. You do not have time to waste."

"I don't," Sierra agreed. "I'll never mention it again, you have my word." She wrapped the mabari war harness around her waist securely. The pouch dangled near her right hip, and she pulled its drawstrings tight to keep the petals safe inside. Then, she fastened the necklace that had belonged to her lover's mother around her neck. "Have you settled things at the Chantry?"

"Oh, yes," Leliana answered airily. "The girls, they wept and bemoaned my loss, but they will survive."

"I don't know," the elf laughed. "I barely survived without you, how can those cloistered sisters be expected to live?"

The bard threw back her head and laughed. "Ah, they are stronger than they think, and I might yet return. I do not know." She walked passed Sierra to approach the monument. After a moment, she reached out and touched one of the griffon's paws. "Don't worry, Alistair," she said quietly, "your fair warrior maiden is on the job. You have nothing to fear now."

Sierra swallowed hard, trying to push her heart back down into her chest. "Let's go," she managed huskily. "The marketplace is starting to come alive, and I _don't_ want to be noticed."

Leliana gasped, placing a hand on her chest. "The mighty Hero of Ferelden, seeking the shadows of obscurity? Maker perish the thought!"

"Be quiet!" The Grey Warden hissed, although a smile pushed itself through. "I swear, if anyone hears you-"

"Oh, you are so touchy!" the bard teased. "Come on, then."

Leliana's mood of happiness was infectious. As they made their way through the early risers of the city, Sierra felt her spirits lift, felt more hopeful than she had since her discovery with Topher. The trip from the Amaranthine fortress to Denerim had been…difficult. Full of despair and self-loathing. And, of course, nightmares.

"Oh, there's your _favorite_ merchant!" The bard's joking broke through Sierra's thoughts. "I wonder if he still says the same thing-"

"DWARVEN CRAFTS! FINE DWARVEN CRAFTS! DIRECT FROM ORZAMMAR!"

"Oh, Gorim," the petite woman sighed. "Still as deafening as always."

Sierra wasn't listening. Not anymore. Orzammar…

_She could hear shouting. Someone was not happy about something. There was a hissing retort in a distinctly feminine voice. Why couldn't they calm down? Her head was splitting. Everything was all foggy, too. Why was that? And, come to think of it, why was she laying down, half-propped against something? Something decidedly…metal. Ah, the shouting was becoming clearer now. _

_ "Alistair, please-"_

_ "Get that buffoon out of here, or I will see to it that he is permanently out of my way."_

_ "Where would you like me to take him, Morrigan? We're in the Deep Roads, for Andraste's sake. Besides, he's holding her up."_

_ "Well, he can lay her down just as easily, can't he? Unless his body has become just as useful as his _brain_ is."_

_ "Don't talk about me like I'm not here! Sierra? Sierra!"_

_ "Yes, shouting at her should wake her up_ much_ faster."_

_ "Morrigan, I swear, I'm going to bloody kill-"_

_ Uh oh. The children were at each other's throats again. Better put a stop to that. The elf struggled through the fogginess in her mind, beating it back with sheer willpower._

_ "No killing," Sierra coughed. Her eyes fluttered open to three faces looming over her: Morrigan, looking irritated, with something else lurking just below the surface; Leliana, a mixture of relief and exasperation; Alistair, pure and undiluted fear…and upside down. It took her a moment to realize it was because she was half-leaning up against his chest. That explained the metal._

_ "Sierra!" Alistair gasped, wrapping his arms around her from behind. _

_ "I'm all right," she responded. "My head is killing me, though. What happened?"_

_ "One of the Broodmother's tentacles snuck up on you," Leliana answered. "I was supposed to be watching your back, forgive me." The petite Orlesian bit her lip contritely._

_ "You're forgiven," Sierra told her, smiling._

_ "Here, drink this." Morrigan thrust a potion at her. "It will fix your head. If we are through with the dramatics, perhaps we can move along before the ground opens up to swallow us." The apostate got to her feet and stalked off._

_ "I'll, um, help her with, um, something," Leliana mumbled, darting after the witch._

_ "That's sure to please Morrigan," Sierra giggled weakly. "Want to help me sit up?" she asked her fellow Grey Warden._

_ Alistair pushed his chest forward and, with his arms around her waist, pulled her back. The elf managed to remain upright without the support of his breastplate, if a bit shakily. "How's that?" he asked anxiously._

_ Twisting her head to look back at him, she winked. "Well, I'm still in your lap, and your arms are still around me. I'd say pretty good." When she saw his eyebrows knot together, along with the usual blush that came with her flirting, she added hastily, "I'm OK."_

_ "Good. Then drink that," he ordered, pointing at the potion in her hands._

_ "Yes, ser." She gave him a salute, grimaced, then downed the potion before Alistair could scold her more. The usual warmth spread through her body as the potion took effect. The throbbing in her skull began to subside. "Mmm, better already."_

_ "Good." He leaned his head forward until his forehead rested on her shoulder. "Maker's breath, I was so terrified."_

_ It was her turn to blush now. The tone of his voice made her stomach clench. She leaned her own head down until it touched his. "Why?" she whispered into his hair, though she already knew the answer. One did not have to be a mature leader _all_ the time. Sometimes, one was allowed to pull girlish tricks. At least in Sierra's rule book._

_ She felt him stiffen in what she assumed was confusion, then he relaxed as he realized her game. Turning his head slightly until his cheek was on her shoulder instead, he whispered back, "Because when I saw you fall, saw you crumpled on the ground, I felt my heart stop."_

_ The feeling of his breath on her neck was driving her absolutely crazy. She licked her lips, and managed, "Well, we can't have that."_

_ He chuckled then, and she felt his smile against her shoulder. "Look, I know you're trying to be all…sassy and flirtatious, and I'm not complaining, really. I mean, I'd have to be utterly _daft_ to be complaining. But, I'm a bit shaken up here, so while the banter is doing an excellent job of distracting me, it's requiring a bit too much effort at the moment."_

_ The elf lifted her head and pushed on him until he lifted his, as well. When her dark eyes met his amber ones, she blinked in shock. "Oh, Alistair-"_

_ "Don't. Don't say anything," he interrupted. "I thought I lost you. Bit of an overreaction, I know. _She_ was telling me you were fine, but I wasn't listening. I couldn't. I could just see you laying in my arms, and I…" One of the tears which had so shocked her spilled down his cheek. "You mean so much to me."_

_ Sierra wiped his cheek for him. She spun around to face him, snuggled as close to him as his armor would allow, and leaned her forehead against his. Closing her eyes, she felt him close his, too. "You mean a great deal to me, too, Alistair. When we're done with all this Paragon, dwarf king nonsense, we'll take a little break before we get back to Redcliffe to tell Arl Eamon we're ready. Just to…spend some time together. How does that sound?"_

_ He nodded vigorously, and a couple more tears fell to splash onto her legs. "Bloody perfect, that's how it sounds." His voice was thick. "Do we have time for that?" he asked uncertainly. "Perhaps we shouldn't-"_

_ "We will _make _time. Just a little bit. It won't hurt anything, trust me."_

_ Her former templar-in-training nodded again. No tears fell this time. "I trust you."_

_ "Look at me, dear one."_

_ Taking a deep breath, he raised his head. "Your desire is my command." He even managed to raise an eyebrow at her._

_ She grinned. "That's my man. Now, kiss me."_

_ Winking at her, Alistair raised his voice, "Oh, but what about our audience? You don't think…"_

_ "You are both making me ill!" Morrigan's voice echoed off the tunnel walls._

_ "Two birds with one stone. I could get used to this," he replied loudly._

_ "Troublemaker," Sierra scolded._

_ "Yes, what _are_ you going to do with me?"_

_ "I'm sure I'll think of something. Now, do what you're told."_

"Sierra? Sierra!"

Leliana was shaking her arm. "What, what?" she demanded.

"I was talking to you, and you just…weren't here anymore." The bard's eyes narrowed. "Is this the kind of thing you were telling me about? The memories?"

"Yes." Sierra rolled her neck back and forth. Damn her new shepherd. She'd been just about to kiss him. Well, in her head, at least.

Leliana's mouth fell open in surprise. "So I just woke you up, in a way."

"You could say that, at least that's what Topher said."

"I'm sorry!" the spy cried. "I won't do that again, unless we're being attacked!"

"It's all right," the elf said with a weak smile.

"Was I disturbing anything…intimate?" she asked, immediately bouncing from apologetic to lecherous. Sierra had forgotten how easily the Orlesian's moods could shift. All it took was a kind word to drag her from sorrow to joy. Something else that the Grey Warden envied about her. The best she could do was play along.

"Not precisely," she answered. "In the Deep Roads, after we fought the Broodmother, when I was knocked out."

"Oh!" Leliana cooed. "He was so adorably frightened for you!"

Sierra burst out laughing. "I'm going to pretend I don't agree with you, but I'm lying."

"Your secret's safe with me," she promised, winking. "Well, we're wasting daylight. We'll never save your man this way."

"Right. Let's go, Revered Mother, we've got a witch to find." The elf held out her arm from other woman to take.

Leliana entwined her arm with Sierra's. "_Retired _Revered Mother," the bard pointed out. "You lead, I'll follow."


	9. Chapter 9

_The hallway seemed very tight, like the sides were slowly closing in on her. Keeping one hand on each wall, she walked quickly, wanting to find an open space as soon as possible. As the corridor continued, seemingly endlessly, her breathing became ragged. She needed air, sky, grass, trees. Not this. Stone, wood, beams, carpets, torches. It all made her flesh crawl._

_ There was a commotion coming from up ahead. Lots of noise, lots of people. Shouting. It didn't sound…promising. She didn't want to go anywhere near there. She turned around to go back the way she'd come._

_ There was nothing but a wall behind her._

_ Moaning low in her throat, she reluctantly continued on toward the noise. Finally, there was a room off the hallway, to her left. Heart thudding in her ears, she pushed the door open._

_ There was a woman in labor on a bed, writhing on blood-covered sheets. Around her, serving girls tried to hold her down, while the midwife shouted for her to push. _

_ "I can't!" the woman screamed back, legs splayed at painful angles. "I have nothing left! Curse this child! Curse him, for he steals my life from me!" She screamed again, thrashing against the headboard. _

_ "You don't mean that," one of the girls gasped._

_ "I do!" the writhing woman insisted. Another scream ripped out of her mouth. "My poor daughter, my Goldanna. Who will care for her?" _

_ The girl pulled the woman's sweaty hair out of her face, and a hint of silver winked from around mother-to-be's neck._

_ Her hand stole to her throat at the ice-cold realization of what she was seeing. The same necklace was around her neck, except twenty-something years in the future. What a bizarre thought. Movement to the right, in the corner, caught her eye._

_ He was on his knees, struggling to get up, to look away, to do anything else but watch. It was as if something was holding him there, forcing him to bear witness. Weeping quietly, he tried to dig his fingers into the stone floor. Shivers rippled over his muscles violently. _

_ Anger rose up to replace the fear inside her. She took a breath to shout out her rage when a wall of fire descended before her, blocking out the scene. Blocking her love from view. The heat made her backpedal until she slammed into the wall of the hallway behind her._

_ "Be gone…" hissed a chorus of voices in her ear. "You cannot save him. He is OURS." The fire advanced towards her._

_ "He belongs to no one!" she shouted back, wincing away from the heat._

_ Wicked laughter surrounded her in a thousand different pitches. "Well, he certainly no longer belongs _you_, mortal."_

_ "You'll pay for your petty games!" she snarled. "When I find you-"_

_ The fire burst out of the room, surrounding her and cutting off any escape. Not that there was any escape to be had; the hallway had shrunk down to be simply a closet off the bedroom. Smoke filled her lungs as the flames licked towards her to burn her skin. She could not scream, not with thick, black smoke instead of air all around her._

Sierra woke gasping, eyes darting around in the darkness. As her heart hammered away in her chest, she propped herself up on her hands. No stifling, claustrophobic corridor in what she assumed was supposed to be Redcliffe Castle, no fire. Just open starry sky and comforting trees. Closing her eyes, she let her head loll back. Tears dropped out of her eyes to disappear into her hair.

"Are you all right?" asked Leliana cautiously, her voice carrying across the little clearing they'd camped in.

"As all right as I can be when I watch him being tortured," she answered.

"I would ask what it was about …but I don't think I want to know. You bear a heavy burden, my friend."

"Not as heavy as his." Getting roughly to her feet, she ducked behind a tree and threw up. The elf grabbed a water skin and washed her mouth out. "You should sleep the rest of the night. As long as I pace around, I'll stay awake, and I'm pretty easily shaken out of the memory lapses, so unless we have another assassin after us…"

"I don't think we're as famous as all that anymore," Leliana giggled. "Are you sure?" she asked seriously. "That's the second time you threw up today, and you haven't slept for very long. I can stay on watch a bit longer."

"Ha! Leliana, my dear follower of the Maker, no sleep is the name of the game. Go to bed, we're heading up the mountain tomorrow. It'll do you more good than it'll do me, that's for sure."

"If you insist." The bard snuggled into her bedroll and was blissfully asleep in a few minutes.

Sierra watched her with naked jealousy for a bit before beginning her slow pacing. Travel was so much…_slower_ with Leliana around. Mostly because she had to sleep like a normal person. The elf was used to traveling almost constantly, bedding down only when she felt near collapse to attempt nightmare-riddled sleep for a few hours. She knew the bard's presence was for the best, though. Her condition was getting worse.

It was a fight to swallow food, and she obviously wasn't keeping it down once it got to her stomach. She trembled almost constantly now, as if she were continually cold. Struggling with the urge to snap every time Leliana spoke was a task that increased with difficulty daily. _That_ was a battle she refused to lose, however. It was the last thing the Orlesian deserved.

She'd lost track of how long they'd been on the road. Topher seemed like a distant memory. Traipsing across Ferelden was not nearly as amusing without the company of her hastily-assembled clan. Leliana could only be herself; she could not be everyone else, too. Sierra had also been getting sleep the last time she was trudging around the country.

She'd also had him.

Turning her gaze northward, she could just barely make out the peaks of the Frostback Mountains in the moonlight. Not all that far now. They'd make good time tomorrow, get themselves some furs for the cold weather, perhaps a tent, too. They'd find her soon.

Maybe when this was all over, she would move into the Amaranthine fortress. Keep Topher company. It's not like she had anything better planned after this torture was over. Besides sleeping for about a week, of course. It was so horrifying unfair that he was trapped there. The world could be crueler than she'd thought possible. She'd naively imagined she'd seen it all. _Now_ her eyes were open in ways she'd never wanted them to be.

Open eyes, can't sleep. Open eyes, can't stop seeing the pain. She giggled a bit to herself.

Can't close your eyes. It doesn't go away. It comes to find you then, hunts your dreams like a rabid wolf. No where to hide, no where to run.

Her dark gaze fell on Leliana again. Another giggle bubbled up from her throat. Reaching behind her back near her hip, Sierra thumbed the blade of her battleaxe over and over again. The metal sung quietly.

No where to hide. No where to run. Would she sing as pretty if her head wasn't attached to her neck anymore?

She dropped her hand, and bumped against the pouch of rose petals at her hip.

_"You know, it occurs to me that there haven't been many women in the Grey Wardens," he mused out loud._

_ "So, you'd like more female Wardens?" The words had escaped her mouth before she could stop herself. Foolish elf! You're not with your clan anymore, behave yourself!_

_ "Would that be so bad?" he countered, raising an eyebrow. "Not that I'm some drooling lecher or anything," he hastily added, amber eyes rapidly filling with embarrassment. He raised his hands in surrender. "Please stop looking at me like that."_

Sierra groaned, stumbling backwards a few steps. She lost her footing and fell, barely catching herself on her hands. Her chest rose and fell with little, heaving breaths.

Was that what it was like for Victor? Had his mind just…disappeared on him the night he'd killed Topher? Had a memory of Pria not come at the last second to restore his sanity?

Shuddering, the Grey Warden got to her feet. Reaching down, she convulsively squeezed the pouch of rose petals as she resumed her pacing. This time…keeping a firm grip on her mind.

* * *

"We should find a place to camp soon," Leliana said, looking up at the sky. It was blanketed with clouds of slate grey. "It looks to snow."

_"We should probably camp soon," Alistair observed from behind her. "This is going to be quite a storm. We should've just waited it out in Orzammar…"_

_ "When we left, the sky looked perfectly clear," Leliana chimed in. "This came out of nowhere. Besides, it was…stuffy down there."_

_ "Well, it _is _underground, isn't it?" Morrigan said snidely. "However, as much as I loathe to admit it, I agree with you." _

_ "Morrigan, you're agreeing with other people! I'm so proud of you!" Alistair praised extravagantly. "They grow up so fast, don't they?"_

_ Leliana giggled. Morrigan replied, voice dripping with poison, "Doesn't take much to please a moron." _

_ Sierra didn't turn around. As long as no one was threatening to kill anyone else, she figured no intervention was needed. Beyond the bard, the witch, and the former templar-in-training, she could hear the rest of the group chattering. Oghren, the newest addition, could be heard above everything. Not surprising, since he was drunker than anyone Sierra had seen before. Ever._

_ Her gaze drifted lazily to the sky to see the incoming storm clouds for herself. Her feet ground to a halt as her jaw dropped open._

_ "Ugh, we're definitely going to need shelter," Alistair groaned. "Sierra, do you think- Andraste's knickers, what are you doing?"_

_ She craned her head back further, ignoring him, and staring raptly at the sky. Big, thick, white, crystal-like things were appearing. They descended slowly, reluctantly almost. One landed on her face. Cold! She touched her fingers to her cheek. They came away wet, but when she looked, the white thing was gone._

_ "Darling…?" Alistair came around in front of her, a bemused grin on his face. "Everything OK?"_

_ She turned to him, her eyes wide. "Snow! This is snow!" she exclaimed._

_ Her fellow Grey Warden burst out laughing. "Is that what's going on? Have you never seen snow before?"_

_ "I've heard about it, but I've never seen it. My clan never came very far north. I can't believe-" She broke off, trying to look all around at the same time. They were everywhere, filling the sky. They started piling up on the ground. Experimentally, she kicked at a small mound that had materialized nearby. It exploded in a shower of white powder. She gasped with delight. The elf turned back to the man in armor with a huge grin on her face._

_ "You have absolutely no idea how adorable you are right now, do you?" he asked, putting a hand on his cheek and sighing._

_ "Hmm?" She'd been distracted by watching the snow fall again._

_ Alistair seized her by the shoulders and pulled her in for a kiss. It was quick…but not in any way chaste. "Maker's breath, but you're beautiful. I am a lucky man."_

_ If possible, Sierra's grin grew bigger. "You know I love when you say that."_

_ He lowered his voice and pulled her even closer. "I do. Now, what I was trying to tell you before you were being unfairly cute is that there's a cave just over there. Perfect place to wait out the storm. How does that sound?"_

_ "Bloody perfect," she responded, wrinkling her nose as she smiled._

_ He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Why do you do that to me? With the smile, and the nose, and the-" Growling inarticulately, the warrior grabbed her hands and brought them to his lips, kissing each one in turn. _

_ "Anyone else feel the urge to vomit? Anyone?" Morrigan appealed desperately. _

_ Giving Sierra a wink and raising his voice, Alistair called out to the group, "Executive decision! Break out the tents!"_

Sierra narrowed her eyes as the memory vanished. She half-expected to see a cave up ahead, just like before. There was nothing but the mountain trail. "How bad do you think it will be?" she asked the Orlesian. "You know my familiarity with snow is…limited."

"Limited to cozying up to a fire with a certain Grey Warden," Leliana teased.

For once, the redhead's voice wasn't putting the elf's sleeping-deprived brain on edge. She gave her friend a genuine smile. "Indeed, and a snowball fight with a feisty bard-turned-cloistered-sister."

The bard in question laughed. "That, too." She regarded the sky intently for a moment. "Not bad. Putting up the tent out of the way of the wind should do fine."

They found a rocky outcrop that blocked the wind sufficiently. While Sierra set up the tent, she could hear Leliana bring a fire to life. The elf could never manage to do it that fast, well rested or not. The pair of them huddled together in the opening of the tent, shoulder to shoulder. For the first time in a long time, Sierra did not feel ragged, as if her sanity was unraveling. She felt…good. Meaning to take advantage of it, she scooted closer to Leliana. She wanted to enjoy the company of her friend as long as her condition would allow it.

"Look, it's starting," Leliana said, pointing up.

The warrior followed her finger. Sure enough, flakes were beginning to fall from the sky. They were small, more compact than the last snowfall she'd encountered. The _only_ snowfall as far as she was concerned. A secret smile curved her lips.

"I know what you're thinking about." The former Revered Mother nudged her arm. "You have that look."

"What look?" Sierra demanded, although she knew exactly the look the bard meant.

"You know!" Leliana replied, as if reading her mind. "The look of lovers," she whispered lasciviously. Her eyes unfocused as she stared off into space. "That was a good night…for all of us."

"Oh? You have some fun of your own?" asked Sierra, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" The Orlesian gave the elf a push on the shoulder. "Although, I think I could've had Zevran if I wanted."

"No offense, Leliana, but _anyone_ could have had Zevran if they wanted!"

"Ah, yes. He was certainly…forward." Sighing, Leliana leaned her head on her hand. "I love when the snow first falls. It's so pure, so clean."

Sierra stuck her hand out. The snowflakes collected on her palm, melting almost instantly. For the first time, she felt the memory lapse coming. It oozed forward like a fog, coming from the corners of her vision to wash away the real world. She welcomed it. This was a memory she longed to revisit every day of her life…

**Yes, I know that in the game there's snow on the ground when the party goes to the Frostback Mountains. I figure, who's to say that in the beginning of fall/winter, the ground can't be clear? Let's pretend my party was there during one of those times. :) And the snow thing is a little goofy, but it was an idea that got in my head and wouldn't leave.**


	10. Chapter 10

***Whew* Totally intended the flashback to be one chapter, but things got a little out of hand. Sooooo, enjoy the TWO chapter flashback. Both are considerably longer than usual, so brace yourselves :)**

**Thank you so much for all the reviews, story/author alerts, and favorites. You guys rock my world!**

**Definitely rated M for sexy time. If you don't want to read anything like that, skip these next two chapters. You're not missing any plot, I promise.**

**For those of you who DO want to read some sexy time, read on! Just in time of Valentine's Day, lol. Me, I'm off to take a *cough* cold shower :P**

_Sierra leaned against the cave wall near the entrance and looked outside. The heat from the fire washed from her heels to the nape of her neck. The cave concentrated the fire's power, filling the space with welcome warmth. The chill of the mountain weather could not reach them. Not tonight. _

_ "You are missing the party, no?" came a smooth voice._

_ Sierra turned to look over her shoulder, and smiled warmly at Zevran. She looked beyond him briefly to see the scene around the fire. _

_ Leliana's voice complimented the voice of her lute perfectly as she played a quick-paced Ferelden tune. Alistair twirled Wynne around in time to the music, and the mage laughed indulgently as they spun. Oghren attempted to clap along, and failed miserably. He burst out laughing randomly and fell over onto his back. Morrigan was keeping her distance, as per usual, but she kept shooting glances at the festivities. Sten steadfastly ignored the whole thing. The mabari hound bounced excitedly around Alistair and Wynne._

_ The warrior turned her attention back to her fellow elf. "I just keep getting distracted. It's so beautiful." She gestured with her head to the still falling snow_.

_"Ah, yes. Well, if it keeps up much longer, we will be digging our way out of here come tomorrow." The elf made a disgusted face. "Then, I think, you will not like it so much."_

_ "Perhaps not," she acknowledged, "but for now…"_

_ "For now, it is beautiful. I will grant you that." The assassin's eyes glinted. "It is not the only thing that is beautiful."_

_ Smiling ruefully, Sierra wagged a finger at him. "Keep your hands to yourself, Antivan. I'm spoken for."_

_ Zevran smirked, his silvery hair dyed gold by the fire's light. "Indeed? I had no idea. One could easily be mistaken."_

_ "And how could such a mistake be made?" she asked, laughing. "We are not exactly discreet."_

_ "I disagree. You must be very discreet, indeed. Are you quiet then, my dear Dalish? Such an interesting revelation. You struck me as more…demonstrative."_

_ "Oh, Zevran!" Sierra reached out and twisted a few tendrils of his hair around her fingers. Giving a little tug, she winked. "You'll never know, will you?"_

_ "Well played, Grey Warden!" the assassin laughed, then held out a flagon for her. "This dwarven ale is barely drinkable, but it will do its task adequately."_

_ She took the flagon. "What task is that?"_

_ Zevran blinked in innocence. "Why, the task of bringing about revelry, of course!"_

_ "Well, in that case…" Tossing her head back, she took a good, hearty gulp. "Oh, you're right. That's awful." _

_ He narrowed his eyes. "You did not hesitate. Did you not consider that, coming from me, it might be," he leaned closer, lowering his voice, "poisoned?"_

_ Blinking at him, the warrior shrugged. "No. Not even for a minute. You are a better man than you pretend to be, assassin." She took another swig and smirked at him. "Besides, I beat you once. I don't doubt that I could do it again."_

_ "Such confidence," he purred, but his eyes were troubled. "I must take my leave. This Ferelden 'music', it pains me. Perhaps our lovely Leliana knows some Antivan songs."_

_ "Take this swill back to Oghren, he seems to enjoy the taste of it." Sierra held the flagon out to him. "I'll find revelry on my own." Her dark eyes looked past him, to the fireside._

_ He glanced over his shoulder to follow her gaze. "Ah, yes. Perhaps tonight, I'll have my answer about your capacity for volume."_

_ "Perhaps you will, _lethallin_."_

_ The elf stiffened. "What did you say?"_

_ Sierra felt her cheeks pulse with sudden heat. "Forgive me, I meant no offense. It's just, well, you're the only other elf around and-"_

_ "What does it mean?" he demanded._

_ "Friend."_

_ If possible, the troubled look in Zevran's eyes grew stormier. Bowing low, he took the flagon from her. "Let me assist you in your quest for revelry, Warden." Bounding away with lithe speed, Zevran interrupted Alistair and Wynne. From where she stood, Sierra could not hear the conversation, but from the elf's dramatic bow and pleading hands, she assumed he was stealing the older mage from the almost-templar._

_ Alistair handed Wynne over to the assassin with good grace. His gaze scanned the room briefly until he found her by the cave opening. A smile lit his face, and he beckoned her with an outstretched hand._

_ That face, so open and trusting. That body, covered with dancing firelight. She so rarely got to see him without his armor on that she waited, admiring him from a distance. His linens just barely hid the curves of his muscles, the lines of his thighs. _

_ At her hesitation, his look of simple joy turned to a look more mature. His smile slid into a slyer grin, and he wiggled his fingers._

_ Ah, she could resist no longer._

_ When she reached him, he took her hand and pulled her close. "Want to dance?"_

_ "I don't know any of your silly _shemlen_ dances," she told him._

_ "Oh, I'm a _shem_ tonight, am I?"_

_ Pressing herself closer, Sierra looked up into his eyes and whispered, "_Shemlen_ or no, my heart is yours."_

_ Several emotions passed over Alistair's face, all backlit by a blush. "I- You- I-" He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "By Andraste, you sure know how to make me look like a fool, don't you?"_

_ The elf laughed low in her throat. Standing on her toes, she reached a hand around his neck to pull him just a bit lower. _Shems_ were oh so very tall, especially this one. "Come with me," she whispered in his ear. Sliding her hand down his arm, she interlocked her fingers with his._

_ "R-right," he gulped._

_ Sierra led him towards the back of the cave, winking at Leliana on the way. The bard winked back without missing a single note. As the pair passed Morrigan, the witch immediately glanced away, her shoulders rigid. Back a bit further, just around a small curve, there appeared a small pocket in the cave wall. Inside, it amounted to a small, secluded room. The fire's influence barely reached inside, letting only a bit of light in. But there was light enough from the few candles perched on stony shelves._

_ She watched him take in the candles, and the thick fur she'd spread on the ground. He swallowed hard, then said, "Been planning something, have you?"_

_ Shrugging eloquently, she responded, "More like…hoping for something." Raising their intertwined fingers, Sierra kissed his hand. Moving slowly, her lips traveled over his wrist, down his forearm._

_ Sucking in a sharp breath, Alistair's head craned back to look at the ceiling. "What did Zevran want?"_

_ "To try to get me drunk," Sierra answered, lips at the inside of his elbow. "Didn't think you noticed."_

_ "I always know where you are, especially if Zevran's in the vicinity."_

_ "Jealous, are we?"_

_ He scoffed. "Not a chance."_

_ Smiling, she continued past his elbow to the inner side of his upper arm. A sudden urge to playfully sink her teeth into his biceps seized her, but she restrained herself. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him off. "Are you deliberately trying to chance the subject?"_

_ "Perish the thought, madam," he said, eyes still on the ceiling. _

_ As her lips reached his shoulder, the elf slid her hand under the edge of his linen shirt. Oh so lightly, she dragged her nails across his abdominal muscles. _

_ "Maker's breath, woman!" he gasped. At his sides, his hands snapped into fists and his head wrenched down to look at her with wild eyes. "Are you trying to kill me?"_

_ "Kill you, dear one?" she echoed, blinking innocently. "Whatever can you mean?"_

_ "You know what I mean!" he blurted out. _

_ Sierra slid her other hand underneath his shirt. Following the top of his pants all the way around with both hands, she pressed her fingertips into the muscles on either side of his spine. "Well, if _I_ know what you mean, and _you_ know what you mean, then there's no confusion, is there?"_

_ "Will you stop that?" he begged. Reaching behind him, he grabbed her hands and pulled them out. "I can't…think while you're doing that!"_

_ "Kind of the idea," she laughed, low and quiet._

_ He groaned in desperation. "Stop, please, with all of it!"_

_ "If you insist." She wiggled her hands within his grip. "I'll behave myself. You can let go."_

_ He dropped her hands like they were on fire, and backed up a few paces. Shoulders hunched like he expected a blow, the almost-templar's chest heaved with deep breaths._

_ Feeling her heart hitch in her chest, Sierra suddenly realized she may have made a huge error in judgment. Her stomach fell down to her feet. Oh Gods, let this be salvageable! "I'm sorry if I upset you," she said, falling back a pace and crossing her arms to hold in the hurt in her chest. _

_ "Oh, Maker, please…don't look at me like that," he pleaded, eyes wide. His body remained tense, but he held his hands out in supplication. _

_ The elf did not come any closer. Not yet. She would be sure before she proceeded any further. "If you don't want to…"_

_ "That's not it, at all!" he half-shouted, candlelight highlighting the desperation on his face. "I must sound like a fool," he sighed, resigned. Alistair widened the circle his arms made. He didn't need to say anything. His body made the invitation clear._

_ Putting one foot in front of the other slowly, Sierra closed the distance between them. She kept her arms crossed, though. It was only when she stood almost toe to toe with him that she saw the fine tremors humming across his body._

_ "You know I've never done anything like this…with anyone. I was quite sheltered, after all. I care for you so much. Whenever I think of this, I feel like a bumbling idiot, all hands," he said in a rush. "I wish I could be better at this…I want it to be right." Reaching up, he tried to pry her arms off her chest, seeking her hands. "Sierra, please."_

_ At her name on his lips, she was powerless. She dropped her arms and took his hands. "I think this is as right as it gets," the elf managed with a small smile._

_"With the darkspawn on our heels, death awaiting us at every turn? Sure, why not? Hot," he laughed, and a great deal of tension leaked out of his body. "I don't know. I'm willing to give it a shot, if you are." _

_ Gesturing around the room with her head, she was unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. "Yes, I'm willing." _

_ "Right," he snorted, rolling his eyes at himself. "I'm going to…stop talking now."_

_ "Well, don't stop talking all together. There are certain words I'd _like_ to hear from you."_

_ "Like what?"_

_ "Oh, anything invoking the Maker or Andraste is a good start." Sierra slipped her hand under the edge of his pants a bit, and dug her nails into his hip. Hard._

_ His knees buckled slightly. "Your desire is my command," he breathed._

_ "Mmm, good boy." In one smooth motion, she pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the floor. Absently, she traced some of the scars across his chest with her fingertips. "Let me know if I push you too far, do something you don't like."_

_ "Don't think that's possible," answered Alistair, voice tightly controlled._

_ She bit her lip as she kept tracing the lines of his body. The fine tremors she'd noticed before rippled stronger as her fingers passed by, like the wake of a great ship. His breaths were coming faster, but he left his arms at his sides. Every once in a while, a finger would twitch. His eyes were getting a bit frantic, darting around the room, unable to settle._

_ "Such discipline, warrior," she murmured. "Would you let me play all night, maintaining your stoic exterior?"_

_ "Don't think that's possible," he repeated, laughing weakly this time. He finally looked at her. Fear, passion, uncertainty, lust. All these and more flowed out of him, pouring onto her. "I want to this be right. Just tell me what to do to…please you. I- I haven't the faintest clue where to begin."_

_ "How about we worry about my pleasure later, and worry about yours now?" she suggested, reaching around him to start running her nails along the muscles of his back._

_ Eyes widening, he groaned in a half-hearted protest, "I don't think that's very fair. Besides…'later''? Am I going to be in any shape to handle a 'later'?"_

_ Sierra laughed indulgently. "Oh, I've seen your stamina on the battlefield, dear one. I've no doubt you'll be up for a 'later'."_

_ He laughed, too. "Too many innuendos in those couple sentences. Can't decide which to make a joke about. At any rate, I still have no clue what I'm doing."_

_ "What do you _want_ to do?" the elf asked, pressing the full length of her body against his. Oh, yes. He was _up_ for something now…definitely._

_ "Oh, Maker. I…I don't know!" he said frantically. "Just tell me what-"_

_ "No," she refused, firmly but gently. "Figure it out, darling. Just…let go. Give in to it, what's pounding through your heart."_

_ "Oh, it's pounding all right," he assured her. "But I don't know what to do with it. I can't think around it. Please, just order me around!"_

_ Sierra closed her eyes briefly. It took all of her considerable willpower not to pounce on that suggestion like a blighted wolf. But no, his first time should not be dictated by her. "Maybe this will help you…let go." Stepping back from him, she pulled off her shirt and threw it at him. It landed perfectly, draping over his face._

_ He stood there for a few moments, not moving, face hidden by her shirt. She bit her tongue to keep from giggling. Definitely not the time for it. Finally, slowly, he reached up and pulled it off._

_ "Andraste's flaming sword…" he whispered as he looked at her naked upper body, her shirt falling from his hand to pool at his feet. "You're not wearing-"_

_ "Took it off earlier," she interrupted, giving him little smirk. "Now, feeling any more motivation?"_

_ Alistair's mouth hung slightly open as his amber eyes blinked a bit too often. "You're kidding me, right?" he finally squeaked. "All I'm feeling is terror, and…" He clamped his lips shut._

_ Apparently there was a lot to be said for templar discipline. But there was more to be said for Dalish patience. "I'm sure we can find something to help that 'and' along," Sierra said serenely, even though her own blood was wailing plaintively for his hands all over her body. The elf slid her hands under the waist of her pants, preparing to stand before him completely naked if that was what it took…but then she had a better idea._

_ Reaching up, she idly played with her ponytail. She was certain he'd never seen her hair down. Gods, _she_ couldn't remember the last time. A firm tug, and the tie released. With a little shake, her deep red hair tumbled down around her shoulders. Biting her lip, she tilted her head down and looked up at him through her eyelashes._

_ That did it._

**My take on propositioning Alistair, hope you like it :P **


	11. Chapter 11

**Same disclaimers as last chapter. Blah blah, rated M for sexy time, blah blah, long chapter :P**

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_ She didn't see him cross the space between them. One second he was a few paces away, the next his hands were all over her and his tongue was sliding between her lips. She gasped inside his mouth at the heat that exploded across her skin at his roaming touch. A second later, the rest of their clothes were off. Gods only knew who took what off whom. _

_ Sierra felt his hands slid over her backside and, without much warning, Alistair lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around with waist with a moan as they made their way to the fur spread across the ground. The way down wasn't graceful. The pain of it was completely lost in the more important things going on. Like him pushing himself inside her…_

_ The sensation robbed her of all thought, all coherency. Her back arched off the ground with a spike of electricity. She vaguely knew he'd finally broken the kiss, but it was the growl that leaked passed his tightly gritted teeth that grabbed her attention. An iota of control remained in her, just a little one. She managed to wrench her eyes open and push a restraining hand on his chest. "Easy, dear one," the elf gasped. "Breathe."_

_ The feral look in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat, almost made her regret the interruption. He held himself above her, arms shaking with restrained fervor. "Am I hurting you?" he whispered._

_ Sierra saw the confidence fading, the fear returning, and she spoke quickly. "No! Not even close, Alistair. Just try to pace yourself. You'll enjoy it more."_

_ "Pace myself?" he panted. "Yeah, that's not really going to happen, just letting you know."_

_ "Fair enough," she giggled. "Forget I said anything." She'd tried. Another movement of his hips banished any thoughts of cautioning him any further. She grabbed handfuls of his hair as he started to find a rhythm, little mewling sounds pushing out of her half-opened mouth. Gods, how long had it been? Sierra couldn't remember, but what she was _definitely _sure of was that it had never felt like this. This good, this complete. _

_ She felt it coming before he did. It started as a rumble in his chest that erupted from his throat as a shout of surprise and release. Her arms embraced him as he collapsed on top of her, head on her breasts, trembling and gasping. The elf hummed a little tune under her breath as she trailed her fingertips over his back. From what seemed like a hundred miles away, she could still hear the rest of the camp singing and dancing. Good. The more occupied they were, the better._

_ Still shaking, he raised his head up at last. She smiled at the look of wonder and awe in his amber eyes. "Holy Maker," he whispered. "That was…that was…incredible!"_

_ "Glad you enjoyed it."_

_ "What have you done to me? I'm fairly sure my bones have all magically turned to jelly."_

_ She giggled. "That happens. You'll survive."_

_ Eyebrows coming together with mild concern, he asked, "Was it…all right? For you, I mean."_

_ "Darling, it was," her smile broadened, "incredible."_

_ "You're having me on," he laughed. "For someone with your experience, I'm sure I was a disappointment." _

_ "Alistair, you were not-"_

_ He raised a hand to stop her. "That being said, I plan to _earn_ 'incredible'." He settled his chin between her breasts and looked up at her. "Tell me how to please you."_

_ "If you're ready to go now, I severely underestimated your stamina!" Sierra said in surprise._

_ Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. "Not just yet, but I wish you to give me a very _thorough_ lesson. I'll be ready by the end of it, I'm sure."_

_ At the word "thorough", she felt her stomach twist with delight. "If you insist."_

_ "Tell me exactly what you want, sweetheart. Don't spare me anything."_

_ "Wouldn't dream of it. You can start by kissing me…everywhere."_

_ He grinned and placed a melting kiss on her lips. "I can handle that."_

_ As his lips began their travels, his hands caressed her stomach. She felt her muscles contract with an intensity she wasn't familiar with. Giddy laughter almost pealed out. Apparently, a novice Grey Warden had more power than a few Dalish hunters. How embarrassed those young men would be. "Harder," she whispered as he made it to her neck. He complied without a word, and it tore a moan from her lips._

_ "Oh, this is fun."_

_ "Bite, just a bit," she begged. When his teeth clamped around the muscle at the base of her neck, Sierra gasped. He continued down, getting to her shoulder. After a moment's hesitation, he bit her upper arm. The shock of it curved her spine._

_ "Ah, yes. This is my new, favorite activity," he laughed deep in his throat. Coming back to her chest, he let his tongue drag around the mound of her breast. "Bite?" he asked innocently._

_ Sierra couldn't really speak at the moment. Nodding frantically, she dug her nails into the fur on the floor as he did as she bid. _

_ "I don't think I've ever excelled at a subject quite so well in my life," he said dryly. _

_ The elf lost herself completely as the almost-templar made his way down her body. There was biting, licking, kissing, and light touches. She lost track of where exactly his lips were. It was all bundled into a constant flow of sensation that spiked into the base of her brain in time with the beating of her heart. It was also spiking somewhere else._

_ "Alistair, please," she whined, grabbing handfuls of her own hair and yanking. "I can't take-"_

_ "Almost there," he assured her._

_ She felt the stubble on his cheek rake delicately against the inside of her thigh, and she couldn't breathe for an instant._

_ "Can I…?" he trailed off suggestively._

_ "Yes!" she demanded._

_ "You are the most gorgeous woman in the world, do you know that? Especially from this angle."_

_ "Alistair-!"_

_ "Yep, got it."_

_ With the first tentative stroke of his tongue, she forgot everything. The rest of the group nearby, the snow, the Blight, her clan, her name. He licked everywhere, experimenting with great care. "There!" she cried out when he reached the sensitive clump of nerves hidden near the top. "Right there. Oh, Gods, don't stop."_

_ "I'm damn sure I've never seen anything sexier than your begging," he said with a hint of awe in his voice. Without warning, he slid his finger inside her at the same time he flicked his tongue against the spot she'd indicated._

_ A phrase in her native language rolled off her tongue as her hips bucked, fingers knotting themselves into her hair further._

_ "Maker's breath…" Alistair whistled quietly. He didn't say anything else; his mouth was suddenly otherwise occupied._

_ Sierra lost her sense of self as liquid heat surged through her again and again. From a distance, like she wasn't part of her own body anymore, she could hear the constant cries of desire that fell from her lips. Also from a distance, she felt all her muscles begin to tense. For some reason, the image of a plate balanced on the edge of a table plastered itself across her brain giddily. The plate teetered on the brink; one good breath would send it tumbling over to smash on the floor._

_ It fell._

_ Her back rose almost all the way off the floor, only to go limp and drop down again. Her body writhed and twisted. She called his name over and over again as the waves of ecstasy pounded through her in nearly continuous rapture._

_ When it finally stopped, when she knew her name and where she was again, she opened her eyes slowly. Her fellow Warden had moved next to her, his one arm under her head, the other across her stomach._

_ "Thought I'd try to keep you from breaking your head open," he teased, a hint of smug pride in his voice. _

_ Normally, that kind of teasing would've irritated her, but not tonight, not with him. He'd learn. Sierra sucked in huge mouthfuls of air, waiting to see if her heart exploded. Hmm, imagine that, it was still intact. Trembling invaded all her limbs, and she tried to slow her breathing to a more acceptable pace._

_ "You'd earned it already, but you wouldn't listen. Do you believe me _now_ that you're incredible?" she asked when she could speak properly again._

_ "I believe everything you say, you know that." He nuzzled her neck, kissing lightly around her ear._

_ "Scoundrel," she accused. "So, you all rested up?"_

_ "You bet," he said confidently._

_ "Good." Rolling sideways, she flipped him onto his back. Grabbing his wrists, she pinned them to the floor. "Because I've been easy on you until now." The elf took one final deep breath and rolled her shoulders. All feelings of shaking limbs and mushy muscles had been dispelled. She gave him a fierce grin. "Ready for another lesson?" _

_ Alistair's jaw fell open briefly, but he closed it quickly. "Teach me, my beautiful elven maiden."_

_ It was hours later, with Alistair breathing the even, slow breaths of those deeply asleep, when Sierra got up. Feeling no shame, she wrapped a blanket around herself and left their little room to go near the fire._

_ Oghren lay passed out cold a few feet from the fire, snoring louder than a bear. The mabari, near the dwarf, snuffled loudly in his sleep, as if he were on the scent of something. Sten was leaning against the wall near the entrance, eye closed. Wynne was no where in sight, presumably in one of the tents. Morrigan's pale feet stuck out from underneath her shelter. Leliana and Zevran were playing cards near the fire._

_ "What are you two doing up?!" Sierra demanded._

_ "Well, you usually organize the watch," the bard answered. "Since you were, ah, busy, we figured we'd just do it ourselves."_

_ "Interesting choice of attire you have there, Grey Warden," Zevran mused. He craned his head down and around, attempting to see underneath the blanket. "I approve."_

_ "You stayed up all night?" Sierra was shocked…and touched._

_ "We won't be going anywhere today. Your snow has made that quite impossible," the assassin answered. "We can catch up on sleeping while we wait for the walking to be a bit easier."_

_ "Well, get to bed!" she ordered, but the grin on her face undermined her authority a bit._

_ Leliana got to her feet and curtsied. When she rose, her smile told Sierra she would be forced to tell all the details in the very near future. "Come on, Zev," she said, bouncing to a vacant tent. When she saw the look on Sierra's face, she added. "It's nothing. We're just sleeping in the same tent. We're not _doing_ anything."_

_ "Ah, she wounds my heart so. Such cruel rejection." The elf grabbed his chest and staggered a few paces._

_ "Get on with it, Zevran. Sierra wants some quiet time," Leliana scolded._

_ The assassin obediently followed the bard. At the tent entrance, he turned around to look at Sierra. "By the way, Dalish. I have my answer to the capacity of your lungs."_

_ "That so?" She fought to keep the blush minimal, but it was difficult. She met him stare to stare, though._

_ "Yes. Your Alistair is indeed a lucky man." Winking at her, he disappeared behind the tent flaps._

_ Shaking her head, she walked quietly over to the cave entrance. Zevran had spoke the truth. A good deal of snow blanketed the ground. They weren't trapped by any means, but it wouldn't be easy going. Waiting a day or two would probably be beneficial._

_ The sky was beginning to lose its ink-black hue as blue crept over the horizon. The sun would rise soon, and Sierra was glad to see it. What better thing to follow a night such as hers than a sunrise over new-fallen snow?_

_ She wasn't standing there for very long before she felt his presence thrill down her skin an instant before he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his body into her back._

_ "You left me," he said in her ear sadly. "So cold and…alone."_

_ "I just came to see the sunrise." They stood in silence for a few minutes. "Well, I promised you some time together. Apparently, the Gods agree." She gestured to the snow._

_ "Apparently," Alistair echoed, smiling against her unbound hair. "I'm certainly not complaining." He spun her around to face him. "Are you out here with no clothes on, woman?"_

_ "Maybe."_

_ "Go put some clothes on, for Andraste's sake!" He pushed her toward the back of the cave. "I'll make you some tea."_

_ She did as she was told. When she reemerged, he was crouched by the fire, staring into its flames intently. A pot of water with rapidly melting snow in it was balanced precariously near the fire. Folding her legs gracefully, Sierra placed herself next to him._

_ Smiling, he sat down. The elf held out the blanket, and he draped it around both of them. Once it was secure, he slid his arm around her waist. "Thank you," he said after several minutes of silence._

_ "For what?"_

_ "For last night. As far as I'm concerned, it was about as close to perfect as I could've hoped. You never made me feel stupid, or awkward. You were just…you. Thank you."_

_ Sierra rested her head on his shoulder. "Yes, it was…perfect. Thank you, too." She snuggled closer to him. "We'll stay together, no matter what."_

_ "Right," he agreed, holding her tighter. "I think I can handle that."_

"Oh, Leliana," Sierra whispered.

"What? What's wrong?" the bard demanded. "You've been quiet for so long, I-"

The elf turned to face her, tears carving shining trails down her face. She bit her lip to stop its quivering.

"You were…remembering, weren't you? That night in the cave?" she asked gently.

Sierra nodded, unable to speak.

"You're going to find him, save him. I know it," the Orlesian assured her, squeezing her hand. "What?"

The Grey Warden was shaking her head back and forth furiously.

"What do you mean, my friend? Of course you'll save him."

"I know I'll save him!" she blurted out. "But, Leliana- I miss him so much! This won't bring him back to me!" She felt herself shatter into pieces. Throwing her arms around the bard's neck, she sobbed brokenly.

Leliana's comforting embrace and soothing words helped, but they were not what Sierra needed. She'd never have what she needed again.


	12. Chapter 12

The moonlight pooled around Sierra as she paced back and forth. Between her trembling fingers, she convulsively squeezed the pouch of rose petals. Dark eyes wide, seeing nothing and seeing everything. Seeing too much.

_The whip fell across his back again, raising another bloody welt to join the rest. They twisted his arms up and back as they held him on his knees, cackling to one another, raking their claws across his skin in delight. The whip came again, and this lash ripped a scream of agony from his throat._

She looked at Leliana, sleeping. Gods, if she could just have one hour of dead-to-the-world sleep. Just one. She'd be able to hold it together. Tomorrow, they'd find Morrigan. They had to, or else Sierra would have to force Leliana to leave to save the bard's life.

Why save her life, at all? What has she done that she should be spared? Someone else should suffer, just as Sierra had…just as he had. It was finally clear now. There was no justice, there was no answer. There was just pain. The Gods mocked mortals with glimpses of happiness, only to take them away. Watch the puny mortals writhe, watch them cry.

_Seeing Anora moon over the body of her traitorous father was too much for the elf to stomach, so she left. She found who she was looking for down a darkened hallway, away from everything. The voices of all the nobles in the main hall faded to a dull roar as she approached him. Concern pulled her eyebrows together as she saw that he was facing a corner, bracing himself against the stone wall, head hanging down._

_ "Dear one?" she called softly._

_ He spun quickly, making a racket in his armor. Anger at being seen faded instantly when he realized it was her. "Sierra," Alistair whispered._

_ "Yes?" the elf prompted. She kept closing the distance, until she was right in front of him. Looking up into his face, she gave him her best reassuring smile. "What is it?"_

_ He enveloped her in a sudden, crushing embrace. "It's over, it's done. I can't believe I don't have to worry about it anymore. I can't thank you enough. It's all because of you, everything good in my life-"_

_ "Slow down, slow down!" Sierra held him as best as she could. Damn his massive armor. "What are you talking about?"_

_ Alistair eased up on his grip enough to look down at her. "The Landsmeet. You could have made me king. It's what Arl Eamon wanted…but you didn't."_

_ "Well, of course not!" she scoffed. "_You_ didn't want to be king!"_

_ He kissed her, and the power of it almost knocked her off her feet. "No one has ever cared what I wanted," he breathed when his lips finally left hers._

The Grey Warden backed up until her back slammed into the rock face behind her. Sinking to the ground, she sat down hard. She glanced up at the position of the stars desperately. Only a few more hours until sunrise. She only had to hold the madness back for a little while longer. She could do it. She must.

_ The whip twisted through the air like a snake. His back was a mess of split flesh and blood. He gritted his teeth as sweat rolled down his face like pouring rain. The whip struck, tearing more muscle. His head jerked to the side, and she could see his sickeningly fast heartbeat pound beneath his jaw line. Faltering, he sagged in the iron grip of his tormentors. The dragon's bellowing drowned out their laughter._

Jerking the strings of the pouch open, she buried her nose in the dried rose petals. Her breaths came in little hiccupping gasps as tears spilled down her cheeks. Can't quit now, can't lose it. He was counting on her. Without her, who would help him?

He wouldn't be in this mess in the first place if it wasn't for her. If she had just kept her meddling, elven hands to herself. If she had kept her mouth shut. If she had just…died like Tamlen had. He never would've met her, never would've fallen in love with her. Never would've been trapped in the Fade and tortured by demons. Duncan should not have saved her. Look what she'd done.

Better to end it now. There, one of Leliana's daggers. Much easier than trying to do it with her great, cumbersome battle axe.

_"Here, put this on." He tossed something at her over his shoulder. He immediately resumed rooting around in the armory, banging metal off of metal in a deafening clatter._

_ She caught it gracefully, and made at face. "Alistair, you know I hate wearing helmets."_

_ "Well, I think you'll hate it a whole lot more if your pretty head gets cracked open!" he snapped back, not turning around. "Just put the sodding thing on."_

_ "I'll do no such thing" Sierra snarled, "especially if you're going to talk to me like that!"_

_ Acting as if she hadn't spoken, he threw a set of heavy chain mail at her feet. "That, too. It's better than what you've got."_

_ "Alistair, stop!" Taking careful aim, she punctuated her sentence by chucking the helmet at him. It clipped him across the shoulder before disappearing into the mess. He froze, and finally turned to face her. "Calm down!" she shouted, after being sure she had his complete attention. "Now, what is going on?"_

_ "I need to keep you safe, and I can't keep you safe if you're wearing junk armor," he answered, shoulders tense and eyes a bit wild. "We're leaving for Redcliffe. To face the horde, to face the Archdemon. You need to be safe."_

_ "Darling," she sighed. "We're all going to be fine. You'll keep me safe just like you always have-"_

_ "You don't know that!" he bellowed. "What if I fail you? What if I can't protect you? What if I'm distracted, and something happens…and it's all my fault!" Crumpling to his knees, he swatted at a random piece of armor in misdirected fury. _

_ Sierra rushed to him, wrapping her arms around him. She stroked his hair, whispering soothing nothings to him. He buried his face against her shoulder as harsh, heavy breaths worked his lungs into overdrive. _

_ Finally, taking a long, slow breath, he lifted his head. "I have to tell you something. I have to say it, before we go. I-"_

_ "Don't!" She pressed a finger against his lips. "Don't say it. Say it after this is all over. Say it when we're laying in a bed somewhere, when we've scrubbed the dirt and grime and blood off, when the darkspawn aren't stinging along our nerves…when we've won."_

He'd been going to say it. He'd been going to say it, and she'd stopped him. How could she have forgotten that? Pulling her knees tight against her breasts, Sierra rocked back and forth. Just enough to stay awake. Just have to make it until morning.

He'd been going to say it.

* * *

"That's got to be her," Leliana said, peeking around the side of the boulder they were using as cover. "The hut looks just like Flemeth's."

"Like mother, like daughter," the elf replied roughly. Sierra coughed, rubbing her mouth with the back of her hand. "Knowing her, she already knows we're here."

The bard was silent for a moment, staring intently at the Grey Warden. "You're in bad shape."

"Good thing we got here then, isn't it?" Sierra laughed. Even to her own ears, it didn't sound remotely sane.

Leliana narrowed her eyes. "Indeed. So, what's the plan?"

"Just going to walk right up to the door. Like I said, she probably knows we're here."

"If it's all right with you, I'll hang back. Sneak around behind her. That way, if she tries anything, I can get her before she hurts you."

The elf snorted. "She's not going to try anything."

"Just the same…"

"Whatever you want."

"I have something I need to ask you, before we talk to Morrigan," the bard said. "I want to know what went on between you two that night in Redcliffe, before we marched back to Denerim for the last battle."

Sierra choked on the tiny sip of water she'd been trying to swallow. "What? How did you know about that?"

"Alistair saw her waiting outside your room, saw you go in with her. It was why he came to me, why he asked me to-" she shut her mouth quickly, cheeks flushing. "He thought you were hatching a plan to keep him from killing the Archdemon. When Morrigan left, and you wouldn't explain, he suspected it might have been a ruse, but when you took Wynne with us into Denerim, he knew it wasn't. We were both confused, but he wanted to stick to the plan, anyway."

Mouth hanging open since the first sentence, Sierra finally collected herself enough to pull it closed. She dropped to one knee, partly to crouch and partly because her legs had suddenly decided to stop working. So, that was what had sparked it all…

_"I appreciate your offer, Morrigan, I really do. Even though I'm fairly sure you're doing it for the most selfish reasons possible, it's still really nice of you," Sierra said._

_ The witch smiled slickly at her. "My motivations are not of concern to you. The point is that I offer salvation. For you…and him."_

_ "I see that. Unfortunately, it's unnecessary."_

_ Morrigan's smile soured, and she raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that so? Have you find your own way to cheat death?"_

_ "No."_

_ "Then what logical reason could you have for refusing me? Hmm, perhaps it is not logical, at all. Considering that you run around cavorting with that imbecile, it occurs to me that logic may not be one of your strong suits."_

_ "Insulting me won't get you your way, Morrigan." Sierra smiled serenely at her. She'd only had a few minutes for everything to process since Riordan had told them. In that time, however, all the pieces had fallen together for her. "You see, if it hadn't been for Duncan, I would've been…lost, like Tamlen. Becoming a Grey Warden gave me time I shouldn't have had."_

_ "Ah, yes. The fellow who was the cause of your screaming fit that evening. I assure you, I've never had more faith in you than I did then," Morrigan responded, sarcasm dripping from her voice._

_ "You really can't upset me. You should probably stop wasting your time. As I was saying, I've lived on borrowed time since the day Tamlen and I looked around in those ruins. I figure, that borrowed time is up. I must have been spared for a reason, and this is it." Walking over to the door, the elf opened it and gestured out. "So, if you'll excuse me, I'd like my last night to have a bit less…malice in it."_

_ Hatred pouring out of her eyes, Morrigan stalked to the door. Pausing as she reached Sierra, she leaned in close. "Fool," she hissed. "Defeat your Blight without me, then."_

_ "I will." _

"She told you that if she slept with Alistair, the Archdemon's taint would find her baby, and neither of you would have to die?" Leliana spat.

"Huh?" Caught off guard, the elf frowned. "Did I…say all that out loud?"

"Of course you did. What do you mean?"

"I was having a memory, I don't remember saying anything."

"Well, you did!" the bard exclaimed. "I mean, how could she? That's so…so…"

"Morrigan?" Sierra supplied, smiling slightly.

"I'm- I'm going to march right up to that shack of hers and-" The Orlesian got to her feet.

"Hey, hey, hey. Wait." Sierra reached up and grabbed her friend's wrist. "What happened to sneak around behind her?"

"But she-!"

"I know, I was there. Let me handle Morrigan." Clearing her throat in an attempt to make her voice sound more natural, the elf pulled the hood of her cloak up to hide her face. No need to scare the witch. Not yet, at least. She had a whole box of frights if the apostate needed persuasion of the fearful kind.

"Sierra…did you really think that? That your 'borrowed time' had run its course, and that you were meant to die?" Leliana asked quietly.

Squaring her shoulders, she replied, "Yes. Still do." She walked around the boulder without looking back to see the bard's reaction. As she approached the hut, she noticed the blue-gray curl of smoke rising out of its crude chimney. Someone's home.

She was halfway to the hut when the front door swung open, revealing exactly who Sierra had been looking for. Pale, reptilian yellow eyes, purple-black hair, scantily clad. Yep, that would be her. "Hello, Morrigan."

The witch narrowed her strange eyes balefully for an instant, before relaxing against her doorframe. "There is something familiar about you, stranger. Perhaps you should tell me what it is before I do not give you the chance."

The elf turned slightly to the side. The sun struck off the battle axe's blade, throwing light at Morrigan's face. "Perhaps you recognize this?"

"Ah, so it is you." She left the doorway, tilting her head to the side in curiosity as she walked. "How did you find me?"

"You're quite a striking woman, Morrigan. You do not escape notice. People talk," Sierra lied smoothly, spreading her hands wide in innocence.

Morrigan curled her lip as the skepticism turned her walk stiff. "So I am found. What do you want?"

"I need your help."

"Help you?" Rich laughter rolled across the distance between them as the witch halted. "I'm fairly sure the last time _I _asked _you_ for something, it did not go very well."

Leliana materialized out of no where from behind the apostate. One minute there had been empty space between Morrigan and her hut, the next… "Yes, well, this is now, hmm?" the Orlesian purred, placing her dagger against the other woman's throat.

"Ah, you are not alone." Morrigan barely flinched at the steel against her neck. "Our little Chantry sister shows herself to be more bard than nun. Kindly remove your knife from my throat," she directed at Leliana, looking over her shoulder with disdain.

"Kindly agree to help us," retorted the spy, but she looked to Sierra. The warrior nodded, and Leliana obediently removed the dagger and stepped back.

"Unlikely," snorted Morrigan, shaking her shoulders and putting a bit more distance between herself and the Orlesian. Looking back at Sierra, the witch sighed in mock patience, "Regardless of who you have with you, you'll not convince me to assist you in the least. Did I not follow you all over Ferelden recruiting allies and wading through darkspawn hordes?"

"Yet you were absent from the final battle. Thanks for that, by the way." Leliana gave Morrigan a small shove in the back.

"I left, _bard_, because my very simple request was denied." Morrigan's glare as she turned back to look at the former sister was hostile, to say the least, and her tone was laced with the indication that she didn't feel she needed to explain anything to Leliana. "My request which would've saved someone's life, I might add," she tossed at Sierra.

"Well, you're in luck," Leliana said sweetly, but her blue eyes were cold. "Now you have that chance again. It will really fulfill those helpful tendencies of yours. Tell her, Sierra."

Instead of answering, the Grey Warden shook her head, letting her hood fall back onto her shoulders. Even from this distance, the impact of her appearance on her former companion was satisfying.

"By the… What has happened to you?" the daughter of Flemeth demanded.

"You care?" scoffed the elf. "I'm touched. What has happened to me is irrelevant."

"It is relevant to me in that this is no ordinary dilemma," retorted Morrigan, "not if it has caused you this kind of damage. Where is your templar in shining armor?" She glanced around, as if expecting him to materialize. "Surely he has not allowed whatever _this_ is to happen to you."

"So you really did leave?" Sierra was impressed. She'd honestly thought Morrigan's streak of brutality would've forced her to see how many of her former allies fell without her precious help. Wonders would never cease. "Without even watching from afar to see how the battle turned out?"

"I no longer cared," Morrigan said dismissively, waving a hand. "My duty to you was done. Now, what's the meaning of this?"

"We have to save Alistair's soul."


	13. Chapter 13

Morrigan stared at her blankly for a moment. "Have to do…what?" she finally asked, the surprise betraying her into showing a reaction.

"You heard her," Leliana said sharply. "Now, help us."

"That will be difficult…considering I haven't a clue what aid I am supposed to be giving," Morrigan shot back. "Let me also point out, Orlesian, that I am not talking to _you_."

"Just like old times," Sierra sighed to herself. "I won't have the energy to tell this again, Morrigan, so pay attention." Pulling together the bits of the tale in their proper order from the scattered, shaking parts of her brain was no easy task, but the elf managed to make the whole thing coherent.

The witch continued to stare at her, now in open incredulity. "That's why you're here? I am required to summon a benevolent spirit, to take you into the Fade, to rescue that imbecile, who even in _death_, was not bright enough to go where he was supposed to go?"

With a petite snarl, Leliana gave Morrigan another shove in the back. "Don't speak of him like that, not now!"

"Oh, so he has achieved Godhood by the simple act of martyring himself? If it was that easy, why did no one inform me?"

"Though I think Leliana speaks from her heart, you should heed her advice for a different reason," Sierra advised.

"Pray, Grey Warden, enlighten me." Morrigan clapped her hands together in an imitation of delight. "I would love to hear any possible reason that I should take counsel from this foppish-"

"Because as the threads of my mind fray down to nothing and my berserker qualities threaten to run wild, I find insults to him less and less tolerable!" shouted Sierra, air whistling harshly down her throat as she attempted to keep a handle on her rage, which danced down her skin like a million tiny insects. It never used to bother her when Morrigan insulted him. Now, it promised to snap her hold on reason like a twig.

Morrigan's lips pressed together and, beside her, Leliana took a step back. "Do not think shouting at me will accomplish your goal," the raven-haired woman said after a few moments. "I'll not be browbeaten."

The elf licked her lips. The witch could feign bravado with the best, but Sierra's red-rimmed eyes could see the truth. Caution lurked behind the pale face of her former comrade. Good. "What will accomplish my goal, then? What will it take for you to help me?"

"I cannot think of a single thing you could possibly offer me," Morrigan said, crossing her arms. "So, if you would be so kind, leave me. Unless, of course, you'd rather I make you."

"Do you forget so easily, witch?" snapped Sierra. "I defeated Flemeth-"

"Oh, how long shall we trot that favor out for a show?" the apostate interrupted. "If anything, that deed repaid _me_ for all the help I gave you in your foolish quest."

Sierra laughed callously. "I wouldn't think to appeal to your sense of fair play. What I was trying to say, before you were so rude, is that I defeated Flemeth. What makes you think you can _make_ me leave?"

The silence in the air was heavy, and the elf took malicious amusement in watching the emotions war across Morrigan's face. "You would not dare attack me," she hissed.

"You're right, _I_ would not. Use your eyes, though, Kocari witch. Do I _look_ like myself to you?" Sierra spread her hands wide, feeling the thrill of possible battle raise the hairs on her arms. "I certainly don't _feel_ like myself." The idea of spilling that pasty-faced bitch's blood all over the ground was enticing. Almost irresistibly so.

"You defeated Flemeth with your precious templar by your side, and that old cow, Wynne," Morrigan pointed out. "You think you will be so successful with just the pair of you? When your sanity left, did it leave suicidal confidence in its place?"

Leliana sucked in a breath, eyes growing wide. "Do not push her, Morrigan."

Sierra gave the witch a sick smile. "Do you think he did not teach me the ways of the templars?" Pushing down the hot, thick pulsing of the berserker, the elf reached inside her for another kind of power. She'd never done this before. There'd never been a need.

A cool, electric wave rose up to take the place of the rage. It was soothing and calm, completely opposite of the berserker. It felt like an animal waiting in ambush beneath the surface of the water. Coiled, controlled power. She giggled, biting her lip with glee. She felt it reach her eyes, fill them with predatory ice.

"Maker preserve us," whispered the bard.

Morrigan did not speak. Her reptile's eyes voiced volumes, however, and all those volumes were filled with uncertainty.

"I could have you drained of mana, lying on the ground in a puddle of nothing, before you could even _think_ a spell!" snarled Sierra. "It is your choice! All you have to do is call a spirit. That's it! I am not asking you to put yourself in harm's way, at all."

"Except with your presence," snapped Morrigan, but her retort lacked the usual venom.

"I didn't come here to make threats," Sierra responded. "Your…charming manner brought this discussion to this point. Call the spirit, get me to the Fade. When my task is accomplished, you'll never see me again."

"Has she been like this the entire time?" the witch asked Leliana, turning toward her.

The bard's eyes did not leave the elf, but she answered, "No. She's been more…in control than this."

"Still. You are braver than I ever could have expected, to travel with her, sleep in her company."

"I knew the dangers," she replied. "I had a debt to repay."

"What sort of debt?" The apostate raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Morrigan!" barked Sierra. The other woman jerked her head around at the sound of her name. "I came here because I know you have a heart hidden behind those barely-concealed breasts of yours."

"What's behind my breasts is none of your business, Grey Warden," Morrigan said stiffly, crossing her arms, but a tiny smile made her icy countenance a lie.

"Well, if you'd rather I didn't look at them, perhaps you should put them away. Aren't you cold up here in these mountains?" the elf teased.

"No colder than what is between that bloody old cow's legs," the raven-haired woman replied, smile getting a bit wider.

The warrior couldn't help but grin. Neither she nor Morrigan had liked Wynne very much. Relaxing her hold, she let the templar power recede into the core of her body as a peace offering. Her smile faded as she folded her hands, pleading. "If you turn me away, after I kill you, I'll probably just have to kill myself, since I won't be able to make it back to anyone else who could help me. I have hung all my hopes on you!" she finished frantically. "Please!"

A few dozen heartbeats of silence passed. "Get inside. We're certainly not going to do this out in the open."

Sierra collapsed onto her hands and knees, her vision filling with grey splotches. Cold invaded her limbs. She felt Leliana's warm touch over her shoulders and back, felt the bard haul her to her feet.

"Hold on, my friend," she whispered, slinging the elf's arm across her shoulders. "You have won. He waits for you, in the Fade. Nothing stands between you now."

The warrior felt herself being dragged in the direction of Morrigan's hut. She tried to help as much as possible, but her legs didn't seem to be listening to her anymore. "Nothing but a crowd of demons intent on keeping their toy to themselves," Sierra managed thickly, slurring her words a bit. "You have no debt to repay, you know."

"I do, too," replied Leliana stubbornly.

"I thought we promised we weren't going to talk about this."

"You brought it up."

"Did not."

"Did, too."

"All right, children," Morrigan said as they entered the hut. "I'll not summon a single thing until someone explains to me what _this_ is all about."

Leliana deposited Sierra onto a rug before the fire. "We told you!"

"No," croaked the elf. Gods, the fire felt so good. If her companions didn't keep an eye on her, she might just crawl into it to be as close to the heat as possible. "She means what we're arguing about."

"Oh…" The Orlesian wrung her hands nervously. "It is not my place to tell."

"You told me not to talk about it," Sierra said, shaking her head as she hunched forward. "Not going to break a promise."

"You tell it!" blurted Leliana. "I cannot!"

"Oh, this should be good," mused Morrigan, seating herself a good distance away from the elf in front of her fire.

"Scared, witch?" laughed Sierra weakly, raising her bloodshot eyes.

"Merely being prudent. If I thought I could accomplish it without having my head crushed, I'd take your axe from you, too," she answered. "So, tell me. What atrocity could the lovely little nun have possibly committed that she feels indebted to you?"

"She has done nothing, she just feels like she has," Sierra said, shooting a glare at Leliana. "I have _told _her this."

"This almost makes me wish I had stuck around," Morrigan said, smiling broadly. "Do share."

_The Archdemon bellowed again, knocking them all off their feet. Sierra watched as a dwarf was snatched up into the massive jaws. His scream ended with brutal abruptness, followed closely by a shower of blood._

_ She scrambled to her feet, glancing around. Leliana was fine, shooting bolts from the relative safety of one of the parapets. Wynne was all right, too, launching occasion projectiles of rock from her staff in between maintaining all the wards of protection around them all. Of course, she didn't need to look for Alistair. He was right beside her._

_ The dragon roared in pain as one of Leliana's bolts struck it in the eye. The orb burst and the beast shook its head fitfully, trying to dislodge it. Its tail swung wildly, crashing into a nearby wall of stone, sending rock flying in all directions. Thrashing drunkenly, it lost its balance, crashing into another set of parapets as it fell. More stone catapulted through the air._

_ Alistair grabbed her around the waist and pulled her behind his shield, protected her from the hail of shrapnel with his body._

_ "It's weakening!" Sierra shouted over the din of battle. "Can't you feel it?" She laughed with sheer relief. The darkspawn presence, usually feeling like a constant oil slick across her skin, was lessening. Like the oil, after hours of scrubbing, was finally coming off._

_"Yes!" he shouted back, still gripping her tightly around the waist._

_ The elf felt her heart begin to thud with excitement, with joy. It was a shame the rest of their lives could not be spent together, but this was destiny. He would be all right without her, he'd find a nice girl who felt for him the way she did, who would give him all he deserved…like she'd planned to. "It's time," she told him, kissing him lightly on the cheek._

_ "For what?" he asked, looking down at her._

_ "You know what," she said kindly, smiling. The battle continued to rage around them, but for a moment, they were in their own little bubble. She was grateful for it. "Give that smelly hound a kiss for me, would you? Tell him that I said he's supposed to take care of you now."_

_ "You know how I feel about you," he said quietly. "I won't let you die, not when I can do something about it."_

_ Sierra narrowed her eyes at him, a bewildered half smile forming on her face. "What are you-?" The look on his face made her words die in her throat. Her stomach suddenly turned into a ball of lead as ice crept into her extremities. She felt her heart's pounding turn from adrenaline to horror. _

_ His arm was still around her waist…locked there, in fact. Holding her down. They were warriors both, but there was no way she could overpower him, berserker or not. She had not planned for this, had not even considered-_

_ In a display of the strength she was currently cursing, Alistair rose to his feet, hauling her with him. He pushed her away roughly. Sierra stumbled, expecting to fall hard onto the ground. Instead, she fell into someone's waiting arms._

_ Without warning, the person who had spared her a painful landing twisted her arms up behind her back in an intricate knot. The elf gasped with the pain of it as her tendons and muscles screamed, strained to the max. She wrenched her head around to see who was inflicting such hurt on her._

_ "Leliana-?" she blurted out in shock. The bard refused to look at her, she simply gritted her teeth and maintained the hold._

_ Their treachery became all too clear._

_ "No!" Sierra screamed, whipping her head around to look at her fellow Grey Warden. "I won't let you die either, Alistair!"_

_ He smiled in the face of her panic, dropping his shield on the ground. Bending his head to her level, he brushed a bloody hand down her cheek and whispered in her ear, "You say that as if I'm giving you a choice."_

_ "No, don't!" she begged, struggling to free herself from Leliana's grip. Damn Orlesian spies and their methods! He could not do this. Her time was up, not his. Not his! "Please, love, don't-!"_

_ He pulled away to look at her, blinking in surprise but grinning widely. "Well, well. And you wouldn't let_ me_ say it. I see how it is. I suppose I won't hold it against you, since you didn't technically say it." _

_ "You can say it! You can do whatever you want! Just not this! It's my time, not yours!" she yelled desperately. "Tell her to let me go! Alistair, please!" The tears were flooding down her face in a torrent now._

_ "It is _not_ your time," he said sternly, the smile gone. His own eyes filled with tears, and he came forward quickly and kissed her until she had no breath. "Be safe, my dear." Alistair locked eyes with her for one more instant, then he turned and took off at a run, sword flashing in his hands._

_ "No! Alistair! No!" Sierra screamed until her throat was raw, screamed as she watched his sword split the flailing dragon's throat wide open. Screamed as he drove the blade into its skull. Screamed as dazzlingly white light exploded, swallowing the world._

"I see," Morrigan said.

Sierra's body gave a jerk of surprise. "Huh?"

"You did it again," said Leliana, who was sitting next to her, hands folding in her lap, head hanging down. Tears fell to splash onto her nimble fingers. "Spoke during a memory."

"Happy to make her cry?" Sierra asked Morrigan irritably. The elf reached over to the bard, taking her hand and squeezing it.

"To make both of you cry? No. I do not delight in witnessing such girlish displays," replied the apostate, but there was no rancor in her words.

Curiously, Sierra touched her face with her free hand. She hadn't even realized she, too, was crying.

"Did you bring lyrium?" Morrigan asked. Leliana, sniffling loudly, tossed over one of their packs. Its contents rattled gently. "Well, let's not _break_ them, shall we?" the witch muttered irritably, rummaging around inside until she pulled out a handful of flasks brimming with deep blue liquid. She swallowed the liquid in a few of them. Rolling her shoulders, she closed her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Leliana whispered to Sierra, leaning her head against the elf's shoulder.

"_I'm_ sorry for taking it out on you," Sierra answered. "It was so cruel of me. I just couldn't think, couldn't feel anything around the whole in my chest. I-" A gasp from Morrigan cut off the Grey Warden's next words. "What? What is it?" she demanded.

The witch's eyes flew open, startled. "I… I have a spirit willing to take you to the Fade. It has been…waiting for you. Practically pounced on me the moment I stepped beyond the Veil."

Leliana squeezed her hand, but Sierra barely felt it. "Waiting for me?"

"Yes." Morrigan's features were twisted with confusion. "It says it is sorry that you are sick, but it was the only way for you to see your lover's plight. There was no other way for it to show you, and once the window to see was opened, it could not be closed.

"It says it will only be able to keep you there for a short time, that you must work quickly to free him. Once its strength has run its course, you will have to return to your body…or die." She paused, narrowing her eyes. "It will help you as much as it can, but you should trust in love to guide you."

"This spirit is the one who allowed me to see his suffering?" the elf asked, mouth hanging open. "A spirit, all along…"

"Indeed," Morrigan answered. "Now, when the spirit is in contact with you, it will not be able to speak as clearly as it does to me. You will have to interpret images, symbols. Can you do that?"

Sierra nodded slowly, not believing that this was finally happening. That she had reached the end, found the way.

"Sierra!" Morrigan called sternly, snapping her fingers before the warrior's face. "Can you do that?"

"Yes," she answered, her voice sounding strange to her ears.

"Good. I'll hand you over to it now." Morrigan's eyebrows furrowed. "Stay safe."

"Be careful!" Leliana added fervently, gripping the elf's hand tighter.

The Grey Warden opened her mouth to answer, but then the spirit claimed her. The hut lost all color and texture, falling away into white nothingness. She felt the spirit's joy at her presence, its sorrow at her pain, and its eagerness to help. Tugging at her consciousness keenly, it pulled her with it.

As if falling from a great height, they spiraled down into the Fade.


	14. Chapter 14

**Many thanks to the lovely Thessali, who beta'ed this chapter**.

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Sierra felt solid ground beneath her feet, and she instinctively ducked down into a crouch. Her hand shot to the handle of her axe over her shoulder. Here again…

The Fade was just as she remembered it: unsettling and barren. Everything seemed blurred around the edges. Not like there was something wrong with her eyes, like there was something wrong with what she was seeing. The landscape, the sky. All of it radiating an eerie quality.

She got to her feet slowly, looking around. Spikes of rock reached toward the bruised, misshapen sky. A light wind made her skin feel itchy, unclean. Being here in dreams was completely different. In dreams you belonged. Now, the feeling of…_unwanted _was almost had not missed this place, that was for sure. Then, she noticed it.

The realization came upon her slowly, like the creeping tendrils of dawn's light. She held her arms out in front of her. No trembling, they were the hands of a warrior again. Flexing her legs, she leapt high in the air, coming down lithely on the balls of her feet. Balance was back. Trying to keep control of her growing excitement, she closed her eyes and let her mind wander.

No murderous suggestions, no trips to the past, no visions. Her head was filled with nothing but her own, lucid thoughts.

She felt _magnificent_.

Her dark eyes snapped open, and with no thought for potential nearby enemies, she threw back her head and screamed wordlessly with joy and triumph. She was here! She had done it! Another cry of elation burst through her mind, reverberating until it sounded like dozens

Well, perhaps her head wasn't _entirely_ her own…

"Why, hello there, dear friend," the elf said pleasantly.

_ An hourglass with falling sands._

"Right," Sierra agreed. "No time." She looked around again, and the vastness of the Fade, for a moment, took the wind completely out of her sails. "Um, where do I go?"

_His lips press against hers in blatant desire in a hidden room at Redcliffe._

The mental image was so visceral it made her gasp, sending warmth curling through her stomach. "Gods," she whispered, clenching her fists. The way the spirit was communicating was different from the memory flashbacks. They didn't make her ill or leave her disoriented. What came across was mostly sensory input…hence her shaking knees. "You have access to all my memories?" she asked.

_She and Tamlen, catching tadpoles in a shallow pond. He splashes water at her, making her shriek._

"Got it," she said, gulping uneasily. "Well…try to stay away from the, ah, racier ones. I won't be accused of corrupting benevolent spirits."

Raucous laughter pealed through her head.

"Anyway," she said, smiling, "I'm not paying proper attention. How do I find him?"

_Alistair, seated before the fire, watches her do a Dalish dance that honors Andruil and asks for a successful hunt. His grin is filled with awe and longing._

It was so bizarre. She experienced the images as a participant and as an outside viewer, simultaneously reliving the moment and watching it as a third party. Like the moment happened right before her eyes, while at the same time, happened _to her_. Impossible to explain, and almost as hard to try to experience.

The reaction to it, however, was easy.

Glossy, liquid heat bloomed in her chest, outpacing her heart's beats to the rest of her body. A smile eased across her face while her stomach became filled with nothing but…butterflies. Butterflies. That was the _shemlen_ expression. The Dalish said "filled with fire's ash". She sighed; there was only one reason her normal vernacular had been corrupted with things like "butterflies".

Love.

Among all the delicious feelings she had come to associate with love, there was something else. Something that…pulled her. Leading her in a definite direction.

The cheer of victory that rang out from between her ears made the elf smile wider.

So, she walked.

As she walked, she seemed to gain no ground. The landscape did not seem to change, progress. If she set her eyes on a landmark, it never got any closer. If she glanced away from said landmark, and then looked back, it was gone. Damnably frustrating.

The feeling in her heart, though, got infinitesimally stronger as she continued. That was good enough for her. If she ever felt it falter, the spirit bombarded her with another sensory-filled image. It usually caused her to stumble a few paces, breath catching in her throat. Sierra grinned to herself. She could think of worse ways to be knocked off balance than by stomach-clenching, heart-pounding images of the man she loved.

"Enjoying yourself, mortal?" came a thousand voices in sync.

Sierra spun around, axe drawn. She gritted her teeth, narrowing her eyes and tightening her grip at what she saw.

The desire demon walked toward her slowly, idly caressing its naked breasts. "Oh, don't let me interrupt your fantasies," it said, waving a hand gently. "If anyone would understand their beauty, it is I."

"Stay back," she warned. "I've business here, and no time for bargaining."

"Oh, I know all about your business," the demon purred. "Consider me a welcoming party…and the best offer you're going to receive." Leaning forward, it squeezed its breasts together with its upper arms. "I can give your lover to you, forever."

The elf sneered. "Be gone, or be the first head I split today."

"The sloth demon you faced, all those days ago. Went about things all wrong," the demon whispered, as if conveying a secret. "Filled your head with dreams of peace and retired Wardens. Bah!" It waved its hands in disgust. "The way to manipulate a woman is through love, through her heart." It winked at her in a sisterly manner. "If the sloth demon had shown you, say…you and your love together? Ah, I think the mortal realm would look much different now, don't you? It would look a bit…_blighted_."

Feeling bile rise up in the back of her throat, Sierra ground her teeth together. The probable truth of that statement scared her. Would she have been so certain of the sloth demon's deception if it had showed her Alistair instead of Weisshaupt and Duncan?

"I offered my help, but alas, it was refused. And so you triumphed," the creature continued. "Pity."

"You'll forgive me if I don't agree with you!" Sierra snarled, heart thumping sickly with uncertainty. Could she have doomed all Thedas with selfishness?

The demon went on, as if there had been no response. "I am much better than all my peers at such things. After all, it is my, how would you say it?" It stopped, tapping a finger on its chin. "My specialty. Just think: a never-ending dream, the two of you. No more fighting, no more pain. Simply peace and happiness…forever.

"All you have to do is hand over control of yourself to me." The demon reached a violet, clawed hand toward her. "Come now, haven't you earned paradise? I can give that to you." It wiggled its fingers.

A low, rumbling growl made the inside of her head throb.

The smile that crossed her face banished her self doubt like water banishes fire. "You and your kind must be _very_ frightened of me, to send such an…ambassador," Sierra said sweetly. "Tell me, creature, do you _enjoy_ being afraid?"

The demon's face twisted into ugly lines. "Idiotic mortal! Do you wish for me to take you by force?" it hissed.

"I wish for you to _try_," she growled, flourishing her axe. With a Dalish battle cry, she launched herself at her foe.

Right before she reached the desire demon, as her shoulders bunched to swing the axe with all the force she had, oily light shot from the creature's hands and poured over her. She collapsed onto one knee with a strangled moan. Her newfound, gorgeous energy leaked out of her, ebbing away like the tide. It was a familiar feeling; she had fought plenty of demons in her days.

What was _not_ familiar was the assault on her mind. Smeared images of she and Alistair, real and imagined, blurred her vision. Screams of anguish echoed inside her head. Her chin dropped onto her chest as the axe fell numbly from her hand.

_He's carrying her up the stairs of a castle. "Over the threshold" is the _shemlen_ tradition, she's told, but he's had her in his arms since they entered the front gate. The ring on her finger catches the light from the sconces on the walls._

Sierra was not accustomed to fighting foes who knew her weaknesses.

From above her, the Grey Warden heard the demon laugh indulgently. "It is different to be known, is it not?" it asked, as if her thoughts were visible for all to see. "The price of victory, of fame."

Snarling weakly, she struggled to regain her feet, but her legs shook with feebleness. The spirit continued to scream as another surge of images came through, sugar-laced lies of happiness and peace.

_She's standing in front of a house, calling them for dinner. Alistair jogs slowly, allowing the two children to "beat" him. They careen into Sierra's knees, pulling at the skirt of her dress. As they look up at her, she sees that one of them has her dark eyes, and the other has his amber ones._

"Get out of my head!" she demanded, but her voice lacked authority. It came out more as a plea than an order.

"Almost done," whispered the demon, bending its horned head down. It stroked her cheek with its claws. The elf tried to jerk her head away, but all she could do was flinch. It touched its cold, vile lips to hers. "Almost there."

Angry tears rolled down Sierra's cheeks as she closed her eyes. If she could just hold out a few more seconds, her strength would return. But she didn't think she had even that much time. Failed…

Abruptly, the visions stopped.

The warrior's eyes flew open to see the desire demon's face, mere inches away from hers, frozen in shock. Its mouth was stretched in a silent scream. Strength surged back into her body with such force she fell backwards, her palms and thighs protesting the painful fall. She scrambled backwards a few feet, just to be safe. The demon's knees gave way, and it fell to the ground.

Sierra's axe was buried up to the hilt in its back. In confusion, she could not stop looking at the corpse before her.

"Dalish?"

The elf tore her eyes away from the demon's body. "_Zevran?_" Her voice came out as barely a squeak.

The assassin moved around the fallen creature with his usual grace. Reaching down, he pulled her to her feet. In surprise and gratitude, Sierra threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

"Well, well," he chuckled, "if I would have known that _this_ would be the reaction, I would have made sure to save you from peril more often!" He grew quiet, arms tightening around her. "I suppose you must have needed someone to save you, and no one was there, hmm? Ah, Dalish, why are you here? Who has dared to snuff out your life?"

Sierra pulled away from him, tears still making their way down her face. Now, however, they were tears of joy. "Oh, Zevran. I'm not dead. I…I'm enthralled by a spirit. Alistair, he's trapped here. I'm here to free him."

Zevran's face lightened, and he grinned. "Ah, well, then there is no reason for melancholy! If you still live, I am happy."

"But…why are _you_ here, Zevran?" she asked, hands resting on his shoulders.

He burst out laughing. "I would think you would know, Warden! It was your blade that split my heart!"

She closed her eyes in painful memory. "Please, Zevran, I-"

"Oh, no, no! Do not mistake me, Dalish! I gave you every reason to!" he insisted. "I expected nothing less, of course. I did attack you, after all."

"I'm so sorry-"

"Please, stop," the elf said sternly. "I am a lucky man, to be killed by such a beautiful woman, yes? No tears, not for me." He wiped her face gently.

She took a deep breath, trying to do as he asked. "What I meant was, why are you _here_, in this part of the Fade? This is where the dreamers are…and those who could not move on."

His face grew troubled, and he shrugged uncomfortably, dropping his hands from her waist. "I suppose my sins were not as forgivable to the Maker as I believed them to be. I suppose this is my punishment."

The edges of Sierra's mind flared with temper. "Look around, Zevran! Do you see any Maker? Do you seen any divine judgment? This is just a wasteland! Nothing is keeping you here!"

"If there is no punishment, nothing keeping me here, why does your Alistair need saving?" he countered, a bit angrily, backing a few paces away from her.

"Because he's caught by demons! He didn't want to leave me when he died, and they caught him and-" She stopped, staring at her fellow elf oddly. Alistair had tarried in this place because he loved her, and confusion had set in. What would make Zevran hesitate?

"Oh, excuse my humble self! I did not realize the power of love crossed the boundaries of death!" he shouted, pacing around. "Forgive this stupid servant of-" His mouth closed quickly as he saw her staring. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Zev," she began slowly, feeling the idea come together sluggishly, "do you feel… _guilty_ that you turned on us?"

His face lost its color for an instant. It came flooding back immediately, and he winked at her. "You called me 'Zev'. I knew I would win you over one day."

She didn't fall for the bait. "Zev, answer me. Do you feel guilty?"

The elf scowled at her. "Why must we ask such bothersome questions? What is past is past. My feelings on the matter do not have bearing now."

"What if they do?" she pressed. "Answer the damn question, Zevran Arainai!"

"Yes!" he roared at her, throwing his lithe hands up in the air. "Do you think me a cold, heartless monster? Anyone else would have filleted me in that clearing! But you! You spare my life, take me on your grand adventures, offer to protect me from the Crows. All while your hulking templar disagrees, eyes filled with enough hate to kill me on the spot! Not only do you spare the assassin from judgment, you do it against the wishes of a man who clearly loves you!

"So, what is my next course of action? When presented with a fellow assassin, sent to kill me if I do not join him? I _join_ him! The look on your face, it shattered my heart into more pieces that it already was in after…

"Of _course_ I feel guilty, Sierra. As far as mistakes I have made in my life, it vies for the top of the list." He hung his head, silvery hair blocking his face from view. "Have you your answer now?"

Walking over to him, she titled his chin up with her finger. "You called me 'Sierra'," she whispered with a smile.

"It is your name, is it not?"

"Indeed," she giggled. "Zevran, I think it's your _guilt_ keeping you here," she said, more serious.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you feel any power present here? Do you feel judged? Do you feel punished?"

"I _am_ punished. I deserve it…for betraying you."

"What I'm trying to say is that you're here because _you_ think you should be punished. Not because the Maker thinks you should be. The Maker is not here. _You_ keep you here, Zevran. You don't have to stay."

"And why is that?" he asked, forehead wrinkling in confusion and doubt. "Are you simply trying to trick me with your polytheistic beliefs, heathen?"

Sierra laughed out loud. "Not today. You don't have to stay because I forgive you, Zev. Your betrayal hurt my heart, but it was my fault, too. If I had gotten to know you better, you might not have thought joining Taliesen was a good idea." Grabbing his hands and looking into his eyes, she repeated, "I forgive you."

"Truly?"

"Without question."

Shaking off her grasp, he backed away slowly. "I…believe you, I think."

"You should," she responded, smiling. "I would not lie to you, _lethallin_. Not here, not now."

He went to answer her, then stopped. He cocked his hand to the side, eyes narrowing. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Someone calling my name."

"No, I don't hear it." Sierra's eyes filled with tears, again. "You should listen, though."

"Extraordinary," he whispered, eyes widening. "Why do you cry, Sierra?"

"Because I'm happy I got to see you…and happy I could help you."

Going over to the demon's body, he pulled her axe out of its back and handed it to her. "Maker only knows how you use this on a daily basis. I could barely swing it. You think you'd be more considerate to those trying to save your life and carry lighter weapons."

"I think you did all right," she assured him, sniffing loudly.

He wiped away her tears again. "Do you want me to stay? I could assist you once more. We could free your Alistair together."

"No." She shook her head. "I have to do this on my own. Go, Zevran. Wouldn't want them to stop calling you."

"Whoever 'they' are," he chuckled.

She shrugged. "You'll find out."

The assassin turned and walked a few steps. Then he hesitated, coming around to face her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Zev. Go." When he didn't, she filled her dark eyes with as much authority as she could muster. "Go!"

Raising his hands in surrender, he bowed slightly as he backed away. The elf blew her a kiss. Turning, he walked in the opposite direction of where she had been going. The farther he got, the less substance he had, until it was as if he'd never been there at all.

_An hourglass with falling sands._

"Yes, I know!" she said in frustration, wiping furiously at her tears. "But that was worth the time we lost."

_Alistair picks her up again, carrying her out of the river now that she's finally cried herself out about Tamlen. She pushes her face into his chest, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around his neck._

"Right," Sierra breathed, rubbing her upper arms to get rid of the sudden goosebumps. She started walking in the direction the emotions pulled her in.

She hadn't been walking long when she heard a dragon's bellow explode through the air. Her legs stopped obeying orders, and her feet were rooted to the ground. Another roar blasted its way to her ears.

The Grey Warden took off at a run, following the sound.


	15. Chapter 15

She skidded around an outcrop of rock as another roar shook the ground. Barely catching herself with one hand, her Dalish grace allowed her to keep her feet and speed. The sound was right here, right nearby. So close.

There! Up ahead. Beyond those stones.

In her enthusiasm, she slammed into the chest-high walls of rocks, hair falling before her eyes with the impact. Air rushed out of her lungs, and she couldn't breathe for a few moments. Didn't matter. The rocks marked the edge of a vast crater, and as she stared into its depth, she saw the dragon. Chained, just like her vision. And there, by its feet, another figure chained. Sierra's heart galloped irregularly in her chest.

Something was wrong.

The dragon was…different. Its face, etched into the Grey Warden's memory, was all wrong. A bit squished and shaped funny. Even from this distance, she could tell there was something off with the figure, too. Too slender. A mane of burnished gold hair.

Not Urthemiel. Not Alistair. Then who…?

"Who are you?" asked a voice from behind her.

Sierra spun around, reaching for her axe. A man stood there, eyebrows lowered in confusion. A large nose dominated his face, but it didn't make him unattractive. His black hair was short, but curled in an unruly mop on the top of his head. Muscles bulged all over his body, but the thing the elf noticed most was his height. She realized she'd only have to tilt her head up slightly to look into his eyes, if they were toe to toe. It was rare for her to meet _shems_ she could almost look in the eye.

"Someone looking for something," she answered evasively. "Who are you?"

He cocked his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing further. "I…can't remember." He lifted his hands then dropped them, as if embarrassed.

That statement made her blood run cold. Could you be stuck here so long you didn't remember who you were? Thank all the Gods she'd talked to Zevran. "You don't remember?"

He shrugged uncomfortably, broad shoulders rolling. "It happens sometimes. It should come back to me soon."

The dragon's bellow burst out again, causing them both to flinch.

"So _loud_," he said in frustration. Moving passed her, he settled down at the jagged rock wall. He placed his face on his hand. Watching. "You can sit, if you want," he said after a few minutes.

She didn't sit so much as she collapsed, legs giving way beneath her. Growing horror had robbed her limbs of feeling. "What are you doing?" she tried to ask, but her voice had little power.

"Keeping her company," he replied simply, not turning away from the crater. "I can't leave her."

"Victor?" the elf breathed. "Are you…? Is your name Victor?"

He turned sharply, eyes narrowed in surprise. "Yes," he said hesitantly. "Yes…that's my name. You're right. How did you know?"

But Sierra was incapable of answering him at the moment. For the second time since she'd been in the Fade, the urge to vomit came upon her. She thought of Topher. Six hundred years…

"Do you ever hear someone calling your name?" she demanded, ignoring his question.

"Sometimes. They want me to go with them, but I won't. She can't, and I won't leave her by herself. After a while, they stop. They always start up again, eventually, but I don't listen." He was staring at her strangely now. "How did you know my name?"

"Oh, Falon'Din!" she moaned, burying her face in her hands. Sierra was not particularly religious as far as Dalish elves considered the term. She did not believe that the Gods truly existed. Not anymore, at least. Now, they were just ideas that may have been entities, long ago, but now were nothing of substance. Still, she could not help crying out her despair to _someone_. The God supposedly charged with guiding the dead seemed appropriate.

"Please. Tell me how you knew my name?" he asked again.

Pulling herself together, she lifted her head, eyes filled with tears. It seemed to her that she had spent most of the last year of her life crying. Seemed like there had been quite a bit to cry about. "My name is Sierra. I am a Grey Warden. I have come here looking for my love. He is trapped, like her." She swallowed hard. "Like Pria."

"Pria." He looked down into the crater, then back at the elf. Confusion was leaving his features, being replaced with anger. "How did you-?"

"I met Topher."

"Topher," he gasped. "Topher's dead! I-"

"I know. He's…still at the fortress in Amaranthine, by the ocean. He's a ghost."

Victor's jaw fell open momentarily. "No, that's not possible. He doesn't deserve that! He…" He shut his eyes tightly then, clenching his hands until his fists shook. "And you. Did you murder a cherished friend and then kill yourself, too?"

"No." In a hushed voice, she briefly explained.

He let out a string of curses so vile Sierra blinked in shock. "So. You succeeded where I failed?" he ground out through his teeth.

"Not yet," she said, shaking her head. "I'm looking for him still."

"You can help us! Help her!" Victor shouted suddenly. "You're still alive. You can…affect things!" He was up, pacing a small circle violently. "Whenever I remember, I try to…do something." He spun on her suddenly, face carved with lines of anguish. "But I can't! The demons throw me back like a ragdoll. I have no strength. But you!" He pointed at her vehemently. "You're not dead! You can do something!"

"Of course," she agreed. "I-"

_Alistair's face is filled with grief, and he embraces her desperately, like a lifeline, when she comes out of Flemeth's hut. She tries to soothe him, stroking the back of his head with her shaking hands._

The elf groaned, burying her face in her hands. The directional tug on her heart was not gentle, like it had been. It _yanked_. Her mind spiraled, exploding away from rational thought.

_She looks around the cluster of tents to see him on his knees, rubbing and scratching the mabari's ears vigorously. The massive dog sits down on his haunches, back leg kicking involuntarily with pleasure. She bites her lip at the rush of warmth that goes from her toes all the way to the tips of her ears._

Sierra whimpered, pressing her palms tightly against her temples. Can't think, can't talk. She could just…feel. It threatened to drive her back to the brink of insanity.

"Stop!" she screamed frantically, finding her voice. "I get it! Gods, _stop_!"

The onslaught ceased.

Wincing, she pried her eyes open with sheer stubbornness and looked up at Victor, who was managing to look even more confused than he had when she'd first came upon him. "I'm sorry, I can't do anything right now. I have to find Alistair first." She got to her feet shakily. "But I promise," she added fervently, "I'll come back. I won't leave you like this, either of you!"

He frowned, his eyes unfriendly. He crossed his arms defensively.

"I swear it!" Sierra cried anxiously. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she dug her nails in. "Please, believe me!"

Victor blinked a few times, looked at her hands on his shoulders. "Who are you?" he asked, his expression smoothing back to mild confusion.

The elf ripped her hands away from him as if he'd suddenly turned into a hurlock.

The dragon roared, splitting the sickening silence.

"So _loud_," Victor sighed, walking completely away from her to take his place by the wall. To watch.

She backed away from him, hands covering her mouth to keep in the scream that wanted to leak out of her throat. Her back struck a rock, and she couldn't stifle the wail the impact startled out of her.

Six hundred years…

Now she vomited.

_She hands him his mother's amulet. He cradles it in his hands gently, as if it's very fragile. Such a simple thing, found on Arl Eamon's desk, and yet the look he gives her is as if she has just saved the world before his eyes. A blush makes her ears burn._

_An hourglass with falling sands._

Forcing herself to look away from Victor, to abandon him to his confusion-fogged existence, railed against everything that Sierra had built herself on. She steadied herself briefly against the stone and took off at a jog in the direction her heart told her to go.

It was getting stronger now, beginning to override her sense of reality. Being a leader had made her keep a tight rein on her feelings for Alistair. With no one else counting on her, with no one to lead, love took her over completely. The strange, foreboding landscape of the Fade passed by her eyes, unseen. The ability to hear followed suit as she fell deeper into a trance-like state. The invisible rope tied to her chest was the only thing she was aware of, and the force it pulled with increased with every step.

_The grating call of a shriek makes her heart skip a beat, echoing throughout the tunnels. It flails in front of her, huge arms striking out with its wicked claws._

Sierra slid on the gravel beneath her feet as she abruptly stopped, shaken out of her fugue by the startling image. Her eyebrows knot together; after all she'd endured in the last year, the spirit could stand to be a little more…gentle, for Gods' sakes.

As her senses returned, her ears focused on a distinct noise. The reason the spirit had taken the measures to shock her. Her mouth dried up as harsh breaths caused her lungs to heave like bellows. Licking her lips nervously, she peered her head around the corner of the nearest boulder.

Another crater, this one backed by a mountain on the far side. The dragon was silent, unlike Pria's, head hung down with its wings crumbled against the ground on either side of its hulking body. Its reptilian face was familiar; she stared into its baleful eyes in her dreams and in horrifying reality on top of Fort Drakon. Urthemiel.

The chains were not so ephemeral now. They looked dreadfully solid. Seeing the chains made her eyes dart to its feet. The thudding of her heart threatened to choke her when she saw no figure near its massive claws.

_Alistair pulls her hair, craning her head back when she tries to kiss him. He's trying to be confident but his eyes fill with the notion that this is a bad idea. Her answering moan wipes the question clean from his eyes in a blink._

Groaning, Sierra bit her lip in an attempt to focus, to keep control of the emotion singing through her blood and use it. Her eyes were drawn to the mountain behind the God, and she noticed a spot of darkness. A cave. He had been moved, locked away in there. She knew it, as surely as she knew her own name.

Moved in a precaution against her coming. Moved to be kept away from her.

Swallowing hard, she finally allowed her mind to process what she had been avoiding since she peaked around the rock. The sound that had turned her mouth into a desert, the sound that had made the spirit use her old fears to get her attention.

A veritable army of demons filled the crater, their thousand voices overlapping so there was not an ounce of silence. They squabbled amongst themselves, the rage demons swiping irritated claws at one another as the desire demons hissed cattily while the sloth demons bump shoulders in displays of annoyance.

The elf gripped the rock's edge until all the color left her hand. There were so many of them. It would be simply suicide to charge straight through, but with her berserker talents, it was the only fighting style she was familiar with. Alistair had constantly bemoaned the fact that she made it very hard to get their foes to focus on him, with his shield and armor, when she was running at them as if she were invincible.

She laughed sadly at the memory. She certainly did not feel invincible _now_.

"They're not so bad."

She whirled around. An insubstantial figure hovered behind her, its featureless head tilted slightly to the side. "What are you?" she asked, voice shaking. This entity felt very wrong, very dangerous.

"You just have to use what you know," it continued, ignoring her question. "They are many, but unorganized and dim." Its voice took on a tinge of amusement. "You are a formidable enemy, to make them unite in such a way. We do not appreciate each other's company.

"Odd as it may sound, I welcome the demise of this stupid game they are playing." It gestured a blurry limb at the crater. "Such a waste of time. Revenge is something better suited to you mortals, yes?"

"Revenge? For what?" she blurted out.

"Grey Wardens inspire hope and noble ideals, bringing out the best in all mortals." It leaned its sightless face toward her. "We hate that. It's frustrating when we are trying to corrupt, to undermine."

Sierra felt her skin crawling with disgust. This creature made her want to scream in terror, to dig her eyes out of her own face to keep from seeing it. She choked it all back to retort in fury, "That's why they trapped him, trapped Pria? Out of anger because Grey Wardens make their jobs harder?"

It laughed at her. "Yes. I embrace the added challenge, makes my attempts all the more interesting. But, alas, not all share my enthusiasm. And _none_ share _your_ determination." It tilted its head again, and was silent for a few moments. "You will bear watching in the years to come, mortal."

For the fourth time, nausea made her throat burn. For third time, she managed to control it. She'd lost the battle by Victor what seemed like hours ago. "Leave me," she whispered, strained. "I don't know what you are, but I have no need for you. I am here, I will finish this."

It laughed again, indulgently. "I shall leave you, though your _pride_ makes it hard for me to pull myself away." There was a noise of inhalation. "So intoxicating…" It bowed to her, sweeping its limbs out in a wide arc, then vanished.

The elf closed her eyes for a brief moment, breathing calmly until the feelings of nausea and fear left her. Opening them again, she chewed her lip as no ideas for dealing with her enemies came to her. She was used to fighting in a team. A battle alone was unnerving to her. Alistair had always…

Her dark eyes widened. How could she have forgotten? A smile curved her lips. She was no simple Dalish hunter. She was a berserker, and a templar.

"Hey," she said softly to the air around her. "Can you…boost them if I use my abilities?" Her mind raced quickly, trying to think about watching Alistair fight. "I can't take them all out by myself, but if you lend me some power, I could blanket the whole crater."

There was no response. Seconds ticked by.

_Alistair clangs his shield against his sword loudly and the shades turn to face him. Bright blue light fills his eyes as he lets out a battle cry. The sapphire wave that emanates from him staggers them backwards, and they wail in pain. _

_ An hourglass with falling sands. The sands fall very quickly, almost a blur._

She chewed her lip a little before answering, "You can help me, but it will give us less time?"

A muted cry of affirmation.

"No choice," Sierra pointed out. "I don't know what else to do. Are you ready?"

A cry of agreement, but laced with uncertainty.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," the elf huffed, getting to her feet. She felt an insane thrill roll down her spine. Absurd, what she was about to try. But she had not come all this way to turn back at the sight of the biggest gathering of demons she'd ever seen. Not this Grey Warden. She stepped out from behind the rocks, in plain view for the demons to see.

Silence fell as they noticed her presence, stared up at her. A rage demon roared, shattering the quiet, and the rest joined in, raising their chorusing voices in a din that caused her ears to throb painfully.

She reached into her core and released the templar. Cool fluid surged to fill her, and her eyes went icy. "Elgar'nan, guide my hand." Drawing her axe, she leaped gracefully down onto the wall of the crater, running down the steep side at an angle that would have toppled a lumbering _shemlen_. From within her head, she felt additional power pulse through her body. Her eyes felt like embers burning with cold fire.

She let the coiled power explode from her core. As the energy burst out, the world went silent.

Everything moved in slow motion, except her. She watched them lurch like she had shoved them, their mana draining from their forms in a deluge, as she hit the floor of the crater in a crouch. Sapphire mist hung in the air in an ever-widening radius around her. In detached curiosity, she saw that her axe was infused with the same azure hue that filled the battlefield.

She regarded it for an instant more, then swung experimentally at the nearest demons.

They were crushed instantly, collapsing to the ground like fallen trees, lifeless as the "welcoming" desire demon when Zevran had buried her axe in its back.

A wicked grin slid across her face. "Told you I'd make you pay."

The world moved in a blur, her axe a cerulean arc that never stopped. They fell before her onslaught…and fell…and fell…and fell. She'd never felt like this when she fought. It had become a dance, graceful and poetic. Her weapon weighed nothing, _she_ weighed nothing. She floated, reveling in the power of the templar, embracing the cold fluidity of it.

A harsh, guttural scream from between her temples pulled her up short. She was facing the foot of the mountain with Urthemiel's form looming nearby. Dazedly, she turned around to look behind her.

The carnage she'd left in her wake was immense. She'd cut a swath right through the center of the crowd. Nearly two-thirds of the demons lay slain. The others were still reeling…but they were slowly regaining their ability to move.

She turned back around, and while it had not acknowledged that a battle had just happened practically at its feet, the dragon had turned a huge, yellow eye toward her.

Its intent stare unnerved her, and with the rush of the fight fading, Sierra could feel her heart thudding painfully against her ribs. Looking up the mountainside, she fastened her axe across her back quickly and wasted no time hauling herself up on the rocks.

By the time she reached the cave she'd seen from across the crater, her shoulders and legs were screaming, and the thudding of her heart had increased. It didn't feel like exertion, it felt like something much worse than that.

Dragging herself up onto the ledge at the front of the cave, she collapsed on her back for a few moments. The air whooshing in and out of her mouth sounded wrong to her ears, but she didn't have time to care. Rolling onto her hands and knees, she lifted her head to look into the cave's depths.

There he was, a stone's throw away. She couldn't breathe.

The chains around his wrists and ankles disappeared into the rock wall behind him, as if they'd simply grown out of it. The rags he wore were stained with blood and dirt. His knees were drawn up, and his face was buried against them. His hair, his pride and joy when he'd been alive, was matted with more blood and Gods only knew what else.

She sucked in a desperate breath when her body finally forced her to. It snapped her out of her revere, and she scrambled across the distance in the fastest crawl she'd ever managed.

"Alistair!" she cried out as she reached his side. The faint light from the cave's mouth reflected off his skin dully, and her next words died on her tongue when she saw her tar handprint still emblazoned on his biceps like a tattoo.

He raised his head slowly when she called his name, and looked at her with a blankness in his face reminiscent of Victor.

Choking back a sob, Sierra tried to keep a tight grip on her control. If Victor could be reminded after six hundred years, so could her love.

"Alistair, dear one," she said, reaching up to touch his face, "it's me. Sierra."

His forehead wrinkled, and his eyes filled with fearful confusion. "I don't-"

"Yes, yes you do!" she interrupted, cutting him off. If she let him finish that sentence, she wasn't sure that she'd be able to keep from sheer panic. Distantly, she could hear the demons' voices rising as they shook off the remnants of her mana-draining attack. "I told you I'd find you, remember?" Poking him in the arm, she added, "That. I gave you that when I touched you, when I promised you I'd find you. And I don't make promises lightly. You know that!"

When he continued to stare at her, she placed both hands on his cheeks firmly and leaned her face closer until their noses were almost touching. She locked her dark eyes with his amber ones. "Alistair, beloved, I've come to get you out of here. Please, come back to me!"

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Tears ran over the edges of his eyes, flashing down his dirt-strained cheeks. His expression shifted then, the confusion evaporating like water from a puddle. "Sierra?" he whispered, frowning.

The elf could not have retained control if her life had depended on it. The sob of joy clawed its way out of her mouth and tears of her own dampened her face. "Oh, love!" She threw her arms around his neck and held him so tightly her arms shook.

His embrace was more tentative at first, his chains clanging loudly as the links banged together. But quickly, it tightened like a vice, driving all the breath from her lungs.

Pushing herself back, she wiped at her face quickly as she beamed at him. The rest of the demons massing their counterattack completely forgotten for the moment, she bent her head and started covering his face with kisses.

Raising his hands with a deafening clatter, he grabbed her shoulders and held her back. "Sierra," he whispered, his voice thick, "what did you do?"

"Huh?" Her mouth gaped open in surprise.

"I told you to be safe." His eyes shined with pain. "I told you to be safe!" he repeated, this time louder and with less control. Fingers digging into her shoulders, his face crumbled in grief. "Why do always have to be so Maker-forsaken stubborn?"

She grabbed his face in her hands again, unable to suppress her smile. "Love, I'm not dead."

"What?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"I'm not dead!" she exclaimed, laughing. "I'm enthralled, the same way we were when we saved the Circle-"

"You're _what_?"

A wail of warning pierced through her head.

"We don't have any time, darling," she said, getting to her feet. Reaching down, she pulled him up, since he was still staring at her in slack-jawed astonishment. Frowning, she ran the chains through her fingers. Solid and strong…a definite problem. Even in full berserker, she wouldn't be able to break these with her axe.

_They are behind a tree, hidden from prying eyes. He runs a finger down her cheek, a half-smile on his face. He's just said something about fooling her, but she doesn't remember now. The sound of the blood rushing in her ears is too loud. He leans down and kisses her. The instant their lips touch, his arm tightens around her waist, crushing her body against his armor._

Sierra stared at the chains as her stomach clenched with the memory. Could it be as easy as all that? Such a simple thing, if the idea that was forming was right. It seemed so unlikely. And yet…perhaps to his captors, it was not easy, at all. Perhaps to them, it was something they could not fathom. She pressed her lips together grimly. They had not considered a lot of things.

"Sierra?" he asked uncertainly.

Looking up at him, she grinned. Snaking her hand around his neck quickly, she pulled him down and kissed him as hard as she could.

In shock, he didn't react for a moment. Then, he was kissing her back with such fervor she almost forgot what she was trying to do.

The power of their love almost knocked her to the ground, because this was no sensory image, this was no memory. It thrummed through her blood, her skin, her bones. That feeling of invincibility returned, and she almost wanted the demons to come. She wanted to rip them to pieces with her bare hands.

Instead, calming herself, she focused the power. Sierra slid her hand off his neck to join its partner, gripping the chain between them. The metal felt strange against her palms. As she kissed Alistair with every ounce of her being, she twisted the chain.

It snapped between her hands as if made of straw.

The other three chains followed suit, falling off his other wrist and ankles to pile on the floor.

An exultant cry sang through her head.

He broke away from her, looking down at the pile of metal around his feet in awe. When he looked up, his eyes were brimming with tears again. "Can I say it now?" His voice was barely audible.

"Say what, dear one?" she asked, stepping closer, frowning in concern.

Cupping her face between his calloused hands, he whispered, "I love you."

It was her turn to have her jaw fall open. In the back of her mind, she could almost hear Topher scolding her. _I thought we'd already discussed this_, she imagined him saying dryly. "I love you, too," she answered finally, though the lump in her throat made it difficult.

A hundred different emotions flitted across his face. He reached out and pulled her tightly to his chest. Pressing his face against her hair, he said it over, and over, and over again.

Burying her face against him, she clenched handfuls of his ragged and torn shirt in her fists. She let his murmured repetitions of those three little words pour over her like cleansing rain. This moment made all the torture, all the pain, and all the struggle worth it. She would do it again in a heartbeat, if this was her reward.

Her heart gave a sick thud in her chest, and she felt like her ribs were collapsing. Sierra sagged against him as her knees went out from under her, black flowers blossoming before her eyes as she tried to breathe.


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks to Thessali for helping me tidy this chapter up!**

She felt his strong arms catch her, heard his frantic voice calling her name. It was all so far away, drowned out by the sounds of her wheezing breaths and the too-loud booming of her heart.

_An hourglass with falling sands. The upper section is nearly empty._

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to inhale deeply. Her heart calmed a bit, and her ribs no longer felt like they were going to squeeze her lungs into dust. Better. Manageable. By no means, however, was it gone.

A plaintive whine rang through her mind.

_No_, she thought firmly to the spirit. _I don't care. I'm _not _leaving. Not yet._

A weak coo of understanding.

Shaking wracked her body, and she gripped Alistair's arm as tight as she could. She raised her head, and the look on his paper-white face made her swallow hard. "I'm all right," she said hoarsely, even though he was supporting most of her weight. "Just need a moment."

Coupled with the look of panic and concern on his face was something else. "Let's…go outside," he said, his voice strange.

Biting back her question at his oddness, she nodded. "Give me a hand, won't you, love? Not quite steady yet."

Stooping low to accommodate their height difference, he draped her arm around his shoulders, wrapped one arm around her waist, and let her lean on him as they made their way to the entrance.

Once outside, Sierra looked at him again. Her insides crawled with pain at what she saw. In the queer light of the Fade, his skin was pale, like that of a sick person. Huge, bruised bags hung under his amber eyes. Eyes that were once filled with joy, curiosity, and battle vigor were now simply…haunted.

Pulling her eyes away from him with extreme reluctance, she looked down into the crater. The demons had massed at the bottom of the mountain, apparently waiting. Now that she'd shown herself, with their prize in her possession no less, they bellowed and screeched in anger. They made no move to begin climbing…yet. Nearby, the dragon remained still as stone, head hanging loosely toward the ground. It didn't acknowledge the proximity of its tormentors.

The elf narrowed her eyes and a thin snarl escaped her lips. She glanced at the man next to her before looking at the demons again. They thought they had paid, but they were wrong. They had a little, but not nearly enough. They would.

"They seem irritated," Alistair said tightly.

"I would imagine so," she replied, still not commenting on his weird behavior. She could wait him out. Funny, she was _not_ this patient in real life, and she didn't even have a time limit there.

"I take it you're responsible for that massacre?"

"Sure," she said nonchalantly, "but I couldn't have done it without you."

His eyes darted towards her in a question.

"Who else taught me to be a templar?"

It came slowly. First, his forehead wrinkled, drawing his brows down low to his eyes. Then, his lips trembled, just a bit, before he pressed them tightly together. His head came down quickly, like his neck muscles had just let go all at once. He shut his eyes tightly, and his shoulders heaved in a huge, deep breath. It came out in a shuddering exhale.

"Love?" she whispered, still in the circle of his arm.

The eye nearest to her opened a hair's-breadth. It simply stared at her for a moment, before a tear dropped out. "So…this is real? This is actually happening?"

Sierra bit her lip so hard she almost tore her skin. Turning her body to face him, she took his hands gently. He continued to look at the ground, so she spoke to the top of his head. "This is very real, Alistair. I promised to find you. Here I am."

"When you collapsed, I thought-" He cut himself off, and his shoulders rose and fell with another deep breath. "I've seen things, awful things. There was always a small piece of me that knew it wasn't real, but it was like it couldn't talk loud enough to stop me from believing what I was seeing.

"Afterwards, when the awful things were done, they'd come." He gestured at the demons by jerking his head. "To talk about it, make what I'd seen worse…or to hurt me. It's all a blur, really. I-" He swallowed hard. "When you fell, in my arms, I thought it was more torture. A vision of you coming to free me only to have you die in front of me.

"But then, you didn't die. You opened your eyes, you said you were fine." Alistair finally lifted his head to look at her with red-rimmed eyes. "You said I taught you to be a templar."

"You did," she replied quietly.

He laughed a little bit, and more tears oozed from his eyes. "I know." He swung their clasped hands back and forth. "You're really here, then. You really came for me."

"Of course I did." The elf squeezed his hands for added emphasis.

The ex-templar fell to his knees before her. Wrapping his arms around her midsection, he buried his face against her ribs and started heaving great, broken sobs.

Stunned, she just stood there for a second. She cursed every delay, every detour in her journey up until this point. Life's cruelty would never cease to amaze her. Bending low, she hugged his head against her, stroking his hair and murmuring reassurances of safety and love.

"I can smell your fear, mortal!" shouted a rage demon, its harsh voice echoing off the crater walls. The rest of them cackled and hissed.

Anger crackled through her, and Sierra turned hate-filled eyes down on the huddled group of demons. "I am one of the last of the Elvhenan, and never will I submit!" she roared back, adjusting the old Dalish motto. Its application to the situation was dubious, but it felt good to say it just the same.

To her surprise, she felt muffled laughter shake the man clinging to her body. "Well, if I had any doubt before, it's gone now," Alistair said, raising his face to look up at her and managing a small smile. "Only you could have the gall to-"

Her heart gave a lurch, and she winced, pressing a hand to her chest.

"What is it?" he asked, immediately getting to his feet. He placed a hand on her waist to steady her.

"Just a friendly reminder to get you out of here, darling," she said, a bit breathlessly. She glanced around at their surroundings. As much as she'd like to tear the demons limb from limb with her bare hands, she didn't think she had that much time. Another way out…

A shimmering shape caught her eye.

Down below was the insubstantial figure that she had seen earlier. It was walking up the dragon's spine, towards its head. Urthemiel showed no sign that it had noticed the figure's presence. Looking back over its shoulder, it raised a hazy arm to wave at her, as if greeting a friend. Sierra's throat crawled with the urge to vomit again.

Its confident steps carried it down the dragon's neck to the maze of spines that ringed its head. Stepping over them, the figure disappeared from view. The elf narrowed her eyes. What was that…thing doing?

A sharp _crack_ filled the air, and Urthemiel screamed. Shaking its head vigorously, it raised one talon-studded foot to claw at its face. Bellowing a second time, it extended its wings and flapped them erratically, billowing dust and gravel everywhere.

The demons backed away hurriedly, and their movement attracted the dragon's attention. It snatched at them with its claws, bending its muscular neck to snap ferocious jaws. They scattered backwards, seeming to forget about their target for the moment.

"We have to go," Sierra whispered, realizing what the figure had done, "now."

"Now?" Alistair echoed, his eyes fixed on Urthemiel's thrashing form. "Don't you think-"

"Move it, Warden," she interrupted, not unkindly. "This is best distraction we're going to get." She reached down and grabbed his hand. "How fast can you climb?"

He gaped at her for a few seconds, before squaring his shoulders and giving her a winning smile. "Faster than you, I bet," he replied with a wink.

"That so?" asked the elf. One of the many worries weighing on her eased; if he was teasing her, then he was really all right. Well, as all right as he could be under the circumstances. "Show me what you've got, _shem_."

As fast as they could, they started picking their way down the mountain. Given what she'd learned from Victor, Sierra didn't think Urthemiel could actually hurt the demons. It was dead, right? Just as Victor had no strength to save Pria, wouldn't Urthemiel have no strength, either?

Then again, the dragon was one of the Old Gods…perhaps the limitations of a mortal's soul did not apply to the soul of a God. Glancing down, she noticed the demons giving the snarling, flailing dragon a wide berth. They apparently didn't want to take any chances. Good.

They'd almost reached the bottom when Urthemiel lashed out with its tail, smashing the section of rock they stood on. It crumbled on impact, and sent the Wardens tumbling to the ground.

Sierra slammed into the crater floor with her back, her axe making the collision all the worse. She muttered a few choice Dalish oaths under her breath as she rolled to her feet…only to duck back down into a crouch swiftly as the dragon's tail went whizzing overhead.

They'd landed mere feet away from Urthemiel.

"Oh, Mythal," she groaned, "protect me and mine!" Her eyes sought Alistair, who was closer to the base of the mountain, his back pressed against the stone in an attempt to distance himself from the scaled, taloned whirlwind next to them.

A huge foot came crashing down between them, almost shaking Sierra to the ground. It lifted again as the dragon spun and turned, trying to get at all demons that had ringed around it. Darting forward, she threw herself against the rock near him.

"That's one way to get down quick, I guess!" he shouted over the dragon's roars. "You all right?"

"Never better!" she shouted back, even though she was right next to him. "Any ideas?"

"_You're_ the one in charge, remember? I go where my lady bids!"

"Funny!"

Urthemiel backed up, crashing its body into the rocks and sending a shower of stone down on them. Alistair pulled her close, bending his body over hers as they crouched, his hands protecting her head and back.

"I would advise against staying here! Just, you know, a thought!"

"Wow, what would I do without you?" The elf rolled her eyes, then an insane notion came to mind. "Come on!" She grabbed his hand and took off at a run, diving under the dragon's belly.

"Are you mad?" he demanded, looking up at the creature's scaled midsection.

"Almost was, not so much anymore," she answered, keeping her eyes up, as well. "Better than out there. Here was just have to watch its feet, make sure it doesn't squish us."

"No problem!" At that exact moment, the dragon shifted, spinning to the right to reach for the demons coming from the side. They shifted with it, staying underneath its stomach.

"See? No trouble at all," she said cheerfully. The demons had seen them, and were now advancing towards the dragon in earnest. She didn't know if Urthemiel had noticed them or not. It was still keeping the demons away, though, and that was a very good thing. Gave her a moment to think. Although how she could think around the thick pounding of her strained heart was a mystery to her.

The dragon's chains made a deafening racket as it tried to face all the demons at once. A desire demon darted in, throwing an orb of dirty, golden light at the dragon's face. It yowled and swatted at the offending creature.

"We have to free it," Sierra called suddenly, as the realization came crashing down on her.

"We have to what?" he shouted, not taking his eyes off the creature's body above them. "Now I _know_ you're mad! It's a bloody Archdemon!"

"Not anymore, you took care of that, dear one!" Sierra pointed out. "Your taint destroyed its taint! Now it's just an Old God!"

'_Just_ an Old God'? Thanks, sweetheart, that makes me feel a lot better!"

"If it's free, it will provide better cover than _I'm_ going to be able to manage!" she reasoned. "Besides, it doesn't deserve to be trapped at their mercy any more than you do!" she added, her real reason for wanting it free. Nothing deserved this.

Finally tearing his eyes away from the furious dragon, he stared at her oddly. "You're serious, aren't you?" he finally called out.

"You bet, love!"

"Well…you going to kiss it like you kissed me? Don't know how I feel about that, and I'm not quite sure you're its type!"

Sierra burst out laughing as he grinned at her, but she sobered quickly. How _were_ they going to break the chains? The Fade demons hadn't considered love, and so Alistair's chains had snapped easily when faced with their feelings for each other. What else would demons be incapable of considering?

"What were you feeling when you killed the Archdemon?" she asked.

"Pissed off!"

She rolled her eyes as Urthemiel turned rapidly again, tail swinging in a wide arc as its neck stretched out, trying to clamp its jaws around the nearest demons. Sierra narrowly avoided its back foot with a somersault as it came slamming down against the ground.

"Maker, woman!" Alistair exclaimed, helping her to her feet. "This was your crazy idea! Pay attention!"

"Don't say things that make me roll my eyes and I'll pay better attention," she sassed. "What _else _were you feeling when you killed the Archdemon?"

Reaching down, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Ridiculous happiness that I was saving you, that I was managing to spare you from at least _one_ of the awful things we'd had to deal in our time as Grey Wardens."

She smiled brightly even as her cheeks burned. The warm fuzzies blocked out the labored beating of her heart for the time being. "Touch the chain, and think about that," she said. "When the feeling is as high as it's going to get, break them."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

He leaned forward to press his lips briefly against her forehead. "Whatever you want, love."

Sierra kept an eye out in case any demons got past Urthemiel, and in between the dragon's enraged roars, she could hear the clinking of the massive chains as Alistair gripped them.

A rage demon dashed forward while the dragon was looking the other way. Sierra swung her axe, driving the blade through its body as if she were chopping down a tree. The demon died with a howl. "Any luck, dear one?" she called over her shoulder.

"It's not working!" he answered. "When I try to break it, it's like I don't have the strength-"

Sierra almost smacked herself in the head. Alistair was… She swallowed hard, and refused to even think what the truth was. Same as Victor could do nothing against the demons guarding Pria, Alistair couldn't break the chain. Not by himself, any way.

"I'm going to give you a hand, love! Be ready when I come over there!" She dispatched another ambition rage demon as Urthemiel spun again, forcing the faction that was coming underneath to backpedal.

Now or never.

Sierra ran to Alistair and wrapped her arms around his chest from behind him. Gathering her inner strength, she pushed it down her arms, through her hands, into his body. "Now!" she shouted.

The seconds seemed to last forever, and then the wonderful sound of snapping metal. The three other chains fell off with a racket that made her cover her ears. She didn't think she'd heard a more beautiful noise in her life.

The effect was immediate.

Urthemiel charged forward, scattering demons the way Alistair had scattered their enemies when he bashed his shield through a crowd of them. He and Sierra dove to the side as the dragon's tail came streaking over their heads. In the face of one of their victims bearing down on them in a murderous rage, the demons shrieked and fled.

"Come on," Sierra said weakly, struggling to get to her feet. Her chest felt tight, her breaths wheezing harshly in her throat.

Alistair pulled her up gently, forehead knotting with concern. "You don't look so good, love."

"What a thing to say to your heroine!" she teased, an arm wrapped around her ribcage, the other on her knee, helping to hold her up.

"I'm serious," he said sternly. "What's going on? In the cave, before the climb down, now?"

"Just a time limit for how long I can stay, dear," the elf answered evasively. She quit hunching over, straightening her spine. It was difficult, but she had to if she wanted this lie to work. "No worries."

A weak, chastising growl made her head throb.

_He doesn't need to know,_ she thought to the spirit sternly._ If he did, he'd-_

"You sure?"

"Of course," she lied smoothly, smiling widely to drive it home. Her breathing was no easier, but she'd figured out how to give her voice the power it needed to sound normal. "Let's get out of here," she added, gesturing with her hand at the havoc Urthemiel was wrecking on the demons, "before we're noticed."

"Where are we going?" he asked as they headed to a part of the crater with a shallower grade then the rest of the walls.

"I've got another promise to keep."


	17. Chapter 17

She fell to the ground. Hard. She barely kept herself from face-planting with her hands and knees.

"Love?"

"I'm fine," she grunted, hanging her head. After being driven nearly insane for a year, part of Sierra's brain found it amusing that now she was dealing with a physical handicap, instead of a mental one. Just a small part.

_The top of the hourglass only has a few more grains of sand in it._

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she snarled. "Believe me, I know."

Alistair was at her side, getting her upright. "Who are you talking to?"

"I didn't say anything," she replied, blinking innocently. "You imagining things?"

"I- Well, maybe. I could have sworn I heard that melodious voice of yours." He winked at her, but his amber eyes were troubled.

She could see her ruse was beginning to wear thin. He trusted her implicitly, and she had no problem using that for right now. Eventually, however, he was going to realize the whopper of a lie she was telling.

All the more reason to hurry.

"Must be the voices in your head," the elf teased, standing on her toes to tap him on the temple. "Tragic, really, that you're going mad."

He growled and wrapped an arm around her neck in a gentle headlock. "Only because _you've_ driven me mad."

"Yes, yes. I'll take the credit." Sierra pointed to the familiar rock wall up ahead. "Just there. Not far." Thank the Gods.

"Lead on, fair maiden."

They reached the wall, and Victor remained where she had left him. He didn't turn around as they approached. "Victor?" she said softly, lungs burning. "It's Sierra."

His neck twisted as he looked over his shoulder. "Who?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

She sighed, blowing the exhale out her nose as calmly as she could. The patience she'd had with Alistair was long gone. "Sierra, remember? I promised I would help you save Pria."

"Pria?" He looked down into the crater again, then back at her. "Sierra? Grey Warden?"

"Yes." She almost sat down in sheer relief, but she feared if she did, she wouldn't get back up again.

His dark eyes moved to Alistair. "Is this him? Is this your love?"

"Yeah," she said, laughing a bit. "This is Alistair."

Victor got to his feet and crossed over to them. As he stood there, he kept shifting his gaze between the two of them until he finally settled on Sierra. In a sudden movement, he embraced her tightly. "You came back," he whispered.

"I promised," she answered. "Come on, let's get down there."

"Right." When he let go, she almost lost her balance. Alistair steadied with a hand on her elbow, the troubled look in his eyes getting worse.

Victor was already climbing over the rock wall as the ex-templar-to-be whispered, "Friends of yours?"

"In a way." She shrugged off his touch to swing her leg over the wall. There were no demons here. Perhaps they'd massed all their forces by Urthemiel to fight her off. Or perhaps this was a trap. It didn't bear thinking about. There wasn't any time. "They're like us, except Pria slew the Archdemon. When Victor died, he just sat here waiting for her, unable to save her," she explained as they started their way down.

Alistair's face paled. "But Garahel killed the last Archdemon."

"Not _that_ Blight, love," she responded quietly. "The one before it, the Third."

"The _Third_? Toth? But that was-!"

"I know. Six hundred years ago."

He was silent for a few moments. "Why didn't Victor come for her, the way you came for me?"

Sierra bit the inside of her cheek. "He…died before he figured out how to get to the Fade." Oh, the web of lies she was spinning. Better than the truth right now.

"So, he's just…sat here for six hundred years, watching as she was tortured?"

"He couldn't do anything else."

More silence. "When we get to the bottom, I'm going to fall on my knees and thank you, then I'm going to kiss you breathless. That all right?"

Laughing, she ignored the spike of pain through her chest. "Perhaps later, love. I doubt Victor will appreciate the delay."

He grunted. "I remember you used to _love _public displays of affection."

"I remember having to twist a certain Warden's arm about it, actually. Damn Chantry upbringing."

"Hey…"

They reached the crater floor, Victor jogging ahead of them. As they approached, the dragon's eyes filled with hate and it surged forward. The chains snapped tight, yanking the creature to a stop. The huddled figure near its back leg did not lift her head.

"Cranky," Alistair said with a frown. "Not as accommodating as _our_ Archdemon."

"Old God," she corrected absently, staring up at the fuming dragon. She looked at Victor, who had frozen just out of Toth's reach. Foam flew from its teeth as it opened and closed its huge mouth just a few feet from him. "I need a favor, darling," she said slowly.

"Ask away."

"I need to be with Victor, otherwise he won't be able to break Pria's chains. Can you," Sierra swallowed hard, loathing to have him away from her side, "distract it?"

He smiled, and bent down to give her a peck on the cheek. "I do love being helpful. Go, help them." He gave her a gentle push. "Hey! Over here, you ugly son of a darkspawn!" he taunted, jogging away from where Pria was chained to the rocks. "I bet I'd have to pay someone fifty sovereigns to look at your blighted face!"

She doubted the dragon understood a word, but it definitely heard the tone. It swung away from Victor, clawing desperately at the crater floor trying to get at Alistair. He evaded the sword-sized teeth, and rolled out of the way of a grasping claw.

Sierra tore her eyes away, knowing that if she looked much longer, she'd be unable to stop her protective instinct from taking over and running to his rescue. She ran up to Victor, grabbing his arm. "Let's go get your girl."

He nodded, grinning like a fool.

They reached her side and Victor dropped to his knees, calling her name softly. He smoothed her full hair out of her face, and tilted her head up.

The haunted look in her eyes was exactly like Alistair's, giving Sierra a chill. Along with it, though, was coldness. An icy strength that reminded the elf of Morrigan.

"Victor," she said quietly, her accent twisting the name oddly. Her gaze flicked up to Sierra. "Who are you?"

She found herself struck by the other woman's beauty. She had an exotic look to her, with almost-shaped eyes and high cheekbones. Her wild golden hair increased the foreign look she had, and the elf found herself staring.

"A friend, a sister," Victor explained.

Apparently, the Grey Wardens of old used the terms "brother" and "sister" quite a bit more than the Grey Wardens now. Then again, Sierra hadn't really spent any time with Wardens other than Alistair…and there had been no way he'd have called her _that_. "I'm Sierra," she replied, clearing her throat, embarrassed by the way she'd been staring.

"Thank you," Pria said, smiling a little bit. She turned her eyes back to Victor. "You are really here, then?"

"If I apologized forever, it wouldn't even begin to approach how sorry I am that it took this long…"

Sierra averted her eyes a bit to give them time for a tiny reunion. No matter how much pain she was in, those two deserved that. She found it remarkable that Pria recognized Victor right away. She knew her love the minute he bent down and touched his hands to her face.

"So, how do I do it?" Victor asked, turning to Sierra without taking his hands off Pria. He seemed very clear-headed now, as if Pria's presence strengthened his grip on the situation.

She smiled warmly. "Just concentrate on how much you love her. Kiss her, if it helps channel everything." She blushed. "I kissed Alistair to break his chains."

He smiled widely. "Well, you don't ask for much, do you?"

"Nope. I'll have to help you, though," she said, coming close to the couple. "If I put my hands on your back, I'll be able to lend you my strength."

"Of which you don't have much to lend," Pria said, watching Sierra intently.

The elf's jaw dropped open. "How did you-?"

Pria smiled knowingly. "You may be able to lie to the men, but I'm a woman, sister." Her smile faded. "I see through you just as plainly as you would see through me, were our positions reversed."

"You don't even know how I'm here, what's going on!"

She shook her head gently, her mane of hair brushing her shoulders. "Details don't matter. That bravado, that false swagger." She grinned suddenly, brightly. "Strong women are familiar with what that looks like."

Sierra let out a harsh bark of laughter that made her ribs ache. "We are, indeed."

"Is she right?" Victor frowned at the elf. "Are you weakening?"

"More than weakening," Pria said dryly, her eyes not leaving Sierra's. "She is dying."

"You're remarkably coherent for what you've been through," Sierra grumbled, laughter gone in the face of her secret laid bare.

"Love brings focus," the other woman answered. "You know that."

"I do."

"Is that the best you can do? I've got dirty socks with more fight in them than this!" Alistair shouted at the dragon, his voice carrying across the crater. The answering bellow broke goosebumps out across the elf's flesh. Instinct tried to drag Sierra's attention away from the couple in front of her to make sure he was all right, but she reined it in.

The two women stared at each other for a moment, perfect understanding passing between them. "Victor," Pria said suddenly, "don't dawdle. Our sister doesn't have the time."

Stepping up behind him, Sierra placed her hands on his back. "Focus all your love for her. When it peaks, break the chains." Closing her eyes, she gathered her strength and let it ooze through her hands into Victor's back. A little tiny stream of it. She dared not risk giving him more than he needed, not now.

Metal wrenched and groaned, and the clattering of all four chains crumpling to the ground followed.

Pria pushed herself to her feet at the same time Victor did. She threw her arms around his neck. Sierra stumbled back a few paces as huge, dancing spots decorated her vision. Muscular arms grabbed her shoulders, steadying her, but they felt all wrong.

The spots cleared gradually, and she looked into Victor's worried eyes. "I keep my promises," she gasped, managing a smile.

"I'll get Alistair, and you can go back," he said. "Just hold on a bit longer." He tried to pass her to Pria.

"No!" she exclaimed with little power. She snatched his hand to keep him from leaving. "Toth… We have to free…Toth."

"The dragon?" Victor's eyes were wide. "That creature is not worth dying over!"

"It is," she rasped, glaring at him. "Nothing deserves to be trapped like this. _Nothing_."

"But-"

"Victor," Pria snapped. She took Sierra's other hand. "What do we have to do?" she asked.

"Pria, you have to do it," she whispered, pulling herself together a bit. For a moment there, after she'd helped Victor, she thought it had been all over. "Think about whatever you thought when you killed the Archdemon, but nothing hateful or angry. Some emotion the Fade demons wouldn't understand, something they won't have counted on."

The other woman's lips turned up in a smile. "I've got exactly what we need." She tapped a finger against her temple. "Victor, let's get her over there."

Sierra prayed to every God she could think of that Alistair was too occupied with the dragon to notice Victor and Pria practically carrying her over to where Toth's hind leg was chained to the crater wall.

"Same thing," Sierra said, leaning against the rock for support. She closed her eyes and tried to get as much air as possible with each breath. _Just a little bit longer, my friend_, she thought.

No answer.

The elf swallowed the fear that tried to strangle her. Reaching out blindly, she finally found Pria's shoulder. "Ready?"

"Whenever you are, sister."

She pushed a bit of her waning energy down her arm. She couldn't breathe, and her heart stumbled in her chest. Faintly, she heard the metal break, felt the gusts of wind from the dragon's powerful wing beats. Then, all was silent. Her body went numb, and so when she fell to the ground, it didn't hurt.

"Sierra?"

Ah. Warm arms surrounded her. She couldn't open her eyes just yet, but the arms felt right. Not like before, when Victor had caught her. These arms felt perfect. "Sorry, darling," she whispered, every breath a fight. Her heart's languorous beating promised that fight would end soon, though. Very soon.

"For what?" he asked desperately. "What's the matter?"

"For lying. I knew if I took too much time…this would happen." She forced her eyelids to open, and the look of panic and confusion on his face broke her heart.

"What do you mean?" He pulled her closer, cradling her against his chest and stroking her cheek with his free hand.

_The hourglass is fully empty, the bottom completely full._

A heartbreaking whimper floated quietly across her mind, as if it had to travel great distances to be heard.

"Oh, don't feel bad," Sierra chided. "It's not your fault, _I'm_ the stubborn-"

"Who are you talking to?" Alistair demanded frantically.

"The spirit who enthralled me," she explained, smiling gently. "It's too late…for it to bring me back…to my body. Too much energy…gone." The rattle in her throat took her by surprise, and she coughed.

"What?" he whispered, eyes widening in shock.

"She's dying," Pria answered from somewhere. Sierra couldn't see the dark blonde in her field of gradually decreasing vision. All that was still visible was Alistair's face, and that was just fine by her.

"Pria, _hush_!" Victor said sternly, also from somewhere she couldn't see.

"What?" he repeated, louder. His head snapped up, looking in the direction Pria's voice had come from. "What do you know?" he demanded, angrily. He looked back down at Sierra, storm clouds racing across his eyes. "Sweetheart, what is she talking about?"

"It's all right, love," the elf said. She wished she could touch his face, but her arms wouldn't move any more. Only his biceps supporting her head kept her looking at him. If he were to drop her, she'd fall to the ground as if she were boneless. "I don't mind. I'll get to be with you, then."

"No!" he groaned, tightening his grip on her. "This isn't what I wanted for you! I killed the Archdemon so you could _live_!"

"Oh, Alistair," she sighed weakly, "it wasn't much of a life without you, trust me." The pain radiated out from her chest in waves timed to the heavy, labored beating of her heart. It wasn't so bad anymore, though.

"But I-" Tears dropped from his eyes to land on her chest in small splashes. "No. Just…no! It's not fair!"

Sierra laughed, then gasped as agony shot through her chest like a lightning bolt, arching her back. It eased away, and she crumbled down against him.

She'd always thought she'd die swiftly, on the battlefield. This slow process seemed odd, somehow undignified. "I haven't thought life was fair…since Riordan told us our duty at Redcliffe," she forced out with shallow breaths.

"No! You deserve so much better than this!"

"Do not worry. She shall be given something fitting to her…accomplishments."

Sierra couldn't see the strange, new speaker. Whoever they were, they weren't welcome. Alistair jerked his head up and whatever he saw made his muscles stiffen. "Get out of here," he snarled, low in his throat. She could feel the rumble of it course through his chest.

"Do you think to challenge me? You, a free-floating soul? How quaint. One would think you'd be more grateful after I assisted you against the demons."

The pieces came together, and fear infused her dying heart with a bit more energy. "Is it a…blurry figure?" she asked.

"It's a pride demon," Pria spat, making the words sound like something foul. "Be gone! Haven't you any mercy, at all?"

Pride demon… It all made sense now. Why hadn't she put it together before?

"Mercy?" Its chuckle grated on Sierra's nerves. "What an interesting concept! Merciful I may not be, but opportunistic? I am most certainly that, and this one is simply too good to pass up."

"Well, whatever you're thinking, you're _going_ to pass it up!" Alistair hissed, pulling Sierra closer to him.

"But it's so wonderfully easy! If I wait just a bit longer, right before she lets go of her body of flesh and blood," it explained, "_I_ can become her life's force, her energy. I have the strength to bring her back to her body, unlike the puny spirit that got her here. We will leave the Fade together then, and return to the mortal realm."

Alistair's entire body tensed as Victor shouted, "She's not a mage! You can't make her an abomination!"

"Expand your horizons, soul. There are more chances to cross the Veil than you could ever imagine."

A frightened wail resonated inside her head painfully.

Moaning low in her throat, Sierra knew the truth of the demon's words and tried to control her terror. This couldn't be how her life was meant to end. Turned into Gods-only-know-what by a pride demon. Controlling her body, her mind. Using her as a tool for anything. For hurting people. For evil.

"Alistair…" she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut, "I don't want to….be… Don't let it…"

Alistair bent his head down. "I won't let it take you," he whispered fervently. "I won't. Don't worry, I'll-"

A vicious hiss of frustration suddenly filled the air. "It appears this is not the opportune moment I thought it to be. To think, I wasted that time assisting you. How…infuriating."

There was stunned silence for a few seconds. "Why the change of heart?" Victor finally called.

"A poor choice of phrase, soul, for I have no heart. But to answer your question: she is claimed by ones greater than I."

"It's leaving," Alistair said, surprise the paramount emotion in his voice. "By the Maker, it's leaving."

"Must be your…intimidating manner," Sierra said, using up the last bit of her fear-driven energy in an effort to make him smile. One last time.

He scowled down at her as Pria said, "What did it mean by-" but her sentence trailed off into nothing. Alistair looked up again, and his skin paled.

Sierra dug as deep as she could to find a last vestige of strength to make her lungs expand, make her heart keep beating. She couldn't possibly die without finding out what was going on.

Huge gusts of wind kicked up, followed by a pair of ground-shaking thumps. A rumbling growl made the air vibrate.

"Oh, Andraste…" Alistair breathed.


	18. Chapter 18

She couldn't breathe, and a dense weight settled on her chest. It hurt, but not overly. Along with it came a creeping calm, much like she had heard accompanied drowning. With the harsh rattling of air wheezing in her lungs gone, the only sound she could hear was the thumping of her heart. That would quit in a few moments too, then there would be peace. And that wasn't so bad, was it?

She wondered idly if she would simply appear right by Alistair's side, or if she'd have to look for him. Seemed a bit unfair if she had to find him…again. Hadn't she done enough searching for a lifetime?

Even with her entire body shutting down one system at a time, she could still sense Alistair bent over her body, protectively. Shielding her from something. Why would he possibly be doing that?

Another presence loomed over them, this one…heavier. A thick huff of air snorted across her, lifting the loose strands of hair that draped across her forehead. It smelled of…animal.

Alistair tightened his arms around her reflexively.

Oh, yes. The pride demon had left because…because… The weight on her chest made it hard to think. It wasn't important, anyway. Her heart pounded thickly, then seemed to tremble instead of beating. Her rib cage squeezed painfully.

_"Rise up."_

Sierra gasped convulsively. Her muscles all clenched at once, arching her back. Her heart, so ready to give up its duty seconds ago, kicked into adrenaline mode, knocking against her ribs so hard she thought they'd break.

Wrenching her eyes opened, she looked into Alistair's tear-stained face, inches away from her own. "My love?" His voice trembled with a combination of hope and disbelief.

Still breathing in huge, whooping gasps, the elf's eyes couldn't help but dart to the hulking shape…_shapes_…nearby. Right next to them, in fact. Another hot exhale washed over them in a gust.

_"Rise up."_

Her dark eyes widened, and she pressed a hand against Alistair's chest in fear. A hand that a little while ago she hadn't had the strength to lift. Not even to touch his face one last time in goodbye.

"Don't listen," he whispered, pulling her even closer. "I don't know what they want, but _don't_ listen. I'll protect you."

She wanted to weep. Him protect her? In this desolate wasteland of dreamers and lost souls, where she was the only one with any strength to speak of? His courage made her fall in love with him all over again.

Her whole body started shaking as her heart pumped blood hard and fast, pushing away the ice cold numbness that had come with her approaching death. Why wasn't she dead?

_"Rise up."_

It couldn't be… Oh, Gods.

She started struggling against Alistair's hold, pushing on his chest with both hands. Her body was still infuriatingly weak, trembling like an old woman. Death might have been averted, but she was as helpless as a kitten.

"Sweetheart, it's all right," he protested, keeping hold of her easily. "I won't let them hurt you, just-"

"Get me on my knees," she panted desperately. They'd commanded three times already, how much patience did they have? She didn't want to find out.

"What?"

"Maybe since the Chantry tells you your Maker has left, you don't go over this," she breathed heavily, managing to roll out of his grasp and onto the ground, "but I was taught, if you ever happen to meet a God, you _kneel_."

Whether her statement had utterly bewildered him or made perfect sense, she wasn't sure. But he _did_ help her straighten up so she was kneeling on the ground. He wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady.

Sierra raised her head with as much confidence as she could, and met the eyes of Urthemiel.

The dragon blinked at her for a few seconds, its head craned low to be a few feet from her. Behind it, Toth looked around avidly, as if distracted by its surroundings. _"You freed us."_

The dragon's jaws didn't move, and yet there was no mistake as to who the ethereal voice belonged to. It echoed within itself, sounding like many copies of the same voice, as if it came from the depths of a cavern.

"Yes," she replied, trying to keep her voice from shaking. It wasn't working very well.

_"You did not have to."_

"You didn't have to save me," she pointed out, going with the gut instinct she knew was true. How else was she still breathing? "Thank you, by the way."

Alistair's fingers dug into her hip as his body stiffened.

_"If we did not, we would not have been able to question you."_ Urthemiel turned its massive head to the side, so only one eye was looking at her. That eye stared intently. _"Why did you free us?"_

"Because you didn't deserve to be trapped," she answered slowly, trying to calm her breathing to something that sounded less like the gasping of a fish on dry land.

_"You had limited time. Why risk death for us?"_

"I couldn't leave you, not if there was something I could do."

_"For my rescue, perhaps that is a sufficient answer. You wore death like a cloak, however, by the time you reached Toth."_ It gestured with its head to its companion, who wasn't paying the proceedings any attention. _"You wasted your last seconds on something that was not your concern. Why?"_

Sierra didn't know what to say. It seemed her answers weren't good enough. "I had to try," she said, shrugging with great effort. "If I left, I'd be haunted for the rest of my life."

_"Haunted by what?"_

"By the thought that there might have been time to save everyone. If I had simply tried."

It moved closer still. The elf could have reached out and touched its teeth, poked it in the eye. If she had a death wish, of course.

_"And this…need to try. It was enough to risk your death?"_

"Yes."

Urthemiel did not say anything for a while, merely stared. Sierra stared back. It still looked the same as it had in the mortal realm, but it no longer radiated…evil. Just a dragon now, just a God. Just a God. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep an attack of giddy giggling in check.

Toth snorted, then lifted a back leg to scratch its scaled neck, looking like nothing so much as an overlarge mabari.

Urthemiel looked over its shoulder at the other God, then back at Sierra. _"We will reward you for your…need to try. Anything you could want. Wealth, power, glory. Name your wish."_

Sierra sagged against Alistair, tears of relief rushing down her face. He buried his face in her hair, the arm around her waist shaking. Turning her head slowly, she looked at Victor and Pria. The pair was holding hands, their mouth open in twin displays of disbelief.

She twisted her head forward sharply, and her neck muscles moaned in complaint. "Free Topher!" she blurted out. "Give him peace!"

"Now, why would you waste a gift like this on a silly thing like that?" a voice drawled.

Sierra turned around so swiftly she almost fell over. Only Alistair's hold kept her up.

Walking across the crater floor was Topher, grinning from ear to ear. No longer a ghost, Sierra saw his traits for the first time. Bright blond hair, ice-blue eyes, and pale skin liberally sprinkled with freckles. His robes were powder blue to match his eyes. Scoundrel. The elf couldn't stop the smile that crossed her face.

Pria let out a very un-Warden-like squeak, dropping Victor's hand to sprint to the mage. She barreled into him, and Topher pretended to stagger under her weight as he returned her enthusiastic embrace. Bending low, he grabbed her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder. Pria's laughter rang out as she kicked her heels and beat his back with her fists playfully.

Topher carried her back to Victor. Depositing Pria on her feet, he turned to face his friend. He held out a hand. "Good to see you, brother."

Victor stepped back, face filled with horror. "How can you possibly forgive me? After-"

"Easily," Topher interrupted. "Would I be your best friend if I couldn't?"

"You'd be a _human _if you couldn't!"

"You're going to make me do it, aren't you?" Topher sighed.

"Do what?" Victor demanded.

Instead of answering, Topher grabbed the other man in a bear hug that looked strong enough to break ribs. At first, Victor resisted, but in a few moments he responded in kind, burying his face into his friend's shoulder.

They pulled apart eventually, and Topher turned away from his friends. "Hello, Sierra."

"Hello, Topher," she replied. "I've got to admit, you had me fooled."

He narrowed crystal-blue eyes. "About what?"

"I never took you for a blond." She winked at him, then promptly burst into tears of joy.

"Oh, darling…" Alistair hugged her closer and she turned away from the three ancient Wardens to bury her face into his neck.

"Not so fast, ser," the elf heard Pria say. "Sierra has a very lovely, strapping man to wipe away her tears. She doesn't need you to go over there. You _do, _however, have to tell me just what exactly you have to forgive Victor for."

Sierra held her breath as nothing but silence greeted Pria's question. "Um, we'll tell you later," Topher finally said nervously. "Shouldn't hold up the reward ceremony, right?"

Reminding her of their company, she lifted her tear-streaked face to Urthemiel again. It was watching her in curiosity. _"That was not our doing. What is your wish?"_

"Bring me back to life!" Alistair exclaimed. "Let me go back with her!"

Sierra froze, turning to look at him in shock.

"Surprised?" he laughed. "Do you think I want to be dead? Do you think I _wanted_ to leave you, you great fool of a woman?"

_"It is not your wish to make. It is hers."_

"Yes!" she shouted, facing the God again. "Give him back his life!"

_"We cannot do that."_

Alistair groaned, his back slumping in defeat. Sierra felt numbness steal across her body again. She'd been afraid of that; it was why the request hadn't been out of her mouth the second she'd seen Topher.

"Then why did you ask her to wish it?" Alistair cried out angrily. "Why even bother giving us a few seconds of hope?"

"Dear one," Sierra cautioned, "don't snap at the Gods."

_"I was merely stating that it was not your wish to make. No mention was made of whether or not we were capable of the request."_ It blinked at Sierra. _"What is your wish?" _

Sierra sighed. The dragons offered her anything. Well, almost anything. Yet she couldn't think of a single thing she could want. She had no need for wealth or power. Glory was already hers if she wanted it, but of course the very idea made her want to hide in the Brecilian Forest for ever and ever.

She turned and looked at Alistair's crestfallen face. He narrowed his eyes at her. "If you so much as even _think_ about asking them to let you die, I'll cheerfully take off this excuse for a shirt and gag you with it."

"Well, if it gets you to take your shirt off…"

He growled at her, but even that couldn't make him look threatening. Not while he was blushing.

She laughed. "Just like old times." The idea struck her quickly; the only thing she wanted. "You'll take me back to my body, regardless of what I wish for, right?" she asked the dragon.

_"Unless you wish to die, yes."_

"Then I wish for more time," she said. "Time for proper goodbyes," she squeezed Alistair's hand, "and proper hellos." She looked over her shoulder at the three people behind her.

_"More time. That is all you want?"_

"Yes."

Urthemiel looked at Toth, who finally seemed to be paying attention. The other God nodded before losing interest again. Urthemiel turned back. _"You shall have what you ask for. We free the spirit that brought you here. You remain here now by our power alone. Let us know when you are ready to return to your body."_

The dragon got up and walked away, ushering the distracted Toth with it. The pair settled down on the crater floor, heads together as if talking to each other.

Sierra felt all her strength flood back to her in a glorious rush. Once again, she felt whole, just like she had when she'd first arrived here. Just like she had before the fall of the Archdemon. She took a deep, easy breath. It was so gentle, so simple, that she almost laughed out loud.

She pushed herself vigorously to her feet, then held out a hand to Alistair. "Come on, Warden. I think proper introductions need to be made."

Grinning, he let her pull him up. He looked down at her, concern beginning to bloom across his features. "Are you sure this is all you want? You could've had anything."

Standing on her toes, she kissed him. "More time with you? What could be better than that? Come on, you didn't even meet Pria."


	19. Chapter 19

**So, sorry for the delay. I had a wedding to go to this past weekend, so I've been pulling my life back together. **

**Then, I'm in the middle of trying to give Sierra a cathartic release, and Alistair pops up in my head to say, "Hey, what about me?" I wasn't ready for that, so it took some structuring. **

**Chapters 18, 19, and 20 were all meant to be one chapter…soooo you can see how well that's going, lol.**

**Anyway, hope you like!**

They started walking over to the other three Wardens, and Sierra couldn't hold herself back. She raced over to Topher and jumped into his arms.

"What is it about you that makes women leave the men they claim to love and try to tackle you?" Victor asked in exasperation.

"It's a gift, really," Topher replied, lifting Sierra off her feet as he returned her embrace. He put her back down on the ground and held her at arm's length. "I knew you could do it."

"Really? I recall you being _very_ hesitant about my plan." The elf gave him an outrageous scowl and crossed her arms. "_Very_ disapproving."

The mage's mouth dropped open. "Perish the thought, dear lady. I had every confidence."

"Good, because I couldn't have done it without you," she beamed at him. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Alistair hanging back, his face clouded with mild confusion. Biting the inside of her cheek, she fretted momentarily over how this must look to him.

How to explain what Topher meant to her? Validation, sanity, an island of companionship in a roiling ocean of loneliness. A friend to grip onto as terror filled her heart. A brother to caution and scold her.

Sierra reached out a hand swiftly, beckoning Alistair with wiggling fingers and a broad grin just for him.

His answering smile pulled at the threads of her heart, and he slid his hand into hers. "There's someone you need to meet," the elf said to Topher, pulling Alistair forward. "My…motivation."

"Ah, this must be the famous Alistair." He held out his hand to the other man.

Alistair blushed. "I don't know about all that," he replied, shaking the mage's hand.

"I do," Topher responded. "I have never seen such stubbornness in my life until she stumbled onto my doorstep." His eyes grew serious. "I couldn't help but think, despite the whole mess, that you were a lucky man. To have her love."

"Don't worry, I know it," Alistair answered. "I never felt as lucky as I did the day I met her."

Sierra's cheeks flushed hotly at their words. She cleared her throat, trying to get control of the discussion before they embarrassed her any more than they already had. "Topher helped me figure out how to save you, how to get here," she explained. "He gave me hope."

The mage rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture so Alistair-like that Sierra almost giggled. "I don't know about all that!" he denied, echoing Alistair's earlier statement.

A blinding blue light erupted nearby, and everyone turned to look in unison.

"Well, I'll be a drunken dwarf…" Victor whispered.

A shining griffon stood before them, as transparent as Topher had been in the fortress. It pranced on its paws nervously, repeatedly unfurling its wings only to fold them back down again. Clacking its beak a few times, it then threw itself to the ground making pathetic little cries.

"Oh, it's all right," Topher assured it. "No one blames you."

"Can you understand it?" Pria asked sharply.

"Of course," he smiled. "It's a spirit. The one that tried to communicate with Victor, the one that got Sierra here."

The elf's eyes widened, and she gripped Alistair's hand tightly.

"It wants to apologize for everything. It blames itself for all the hurt that befell us. It just couldn't watch its beloved Grey Wardens suffer," Topher explained, speaking for the groveling spirit.

"No!" Sierra said, shaking her head. She got to her knees beside the spirit's glowing head. "Without you, we never would've known our lovers needed us. I would rather go through that whole year again…then think Alistair needed me and I didn't know!"

The griffon raised its head to look at her, liquid eyes filled with sorrow.

"It says your bravery shames it, Sierra," Topher said quietly.

She wrapped her arms around its head and kissed its feathers. "I can never thank you enough for bringing me here."

"Even though you almost died before, and after, getting here?" Topher asked for the spirit.

"Of course," she answered, shooting a nervous glance at Alistair. His face was _not_ happy. "Now get up, I bet everyone wants to thank you."

The griffon obediently rose and went to the other four, getting its feathers and fur stroked and words of praise heaped on it.

"Wow, I wish our Grey Wardens still had griffons," Alistair said as he ran his fingers along its back.

"You? On a griffon?" Sierra shook her head. "No way. I worried about you enough as it was, and that was with your feet planted firmly on the ground!"

"Hey!"

Cooing, the spirit gave Topher's arm an insistent nuzzle. "I understand," he murmured to it, but his eyes were troubled. Then it bounded away, vanishing before their eyes.

"All right, enough," Pria said, spreading her arms. "Time to get these two alone. I bet they have a lot to talk about." She raised an eyebrow at Victor. "As do we," she added.

"Oh," Sierra said, worry suddenly gnawing at her guts, "but, um, I think you should all stick together. I don't want anyone to get left behind when they call you."

"Who's 'they'?" asked Victor.

She shrugged and laughed nervously. "You'll find out sooner than me, I suspect."

"Don't worry, sister," Pria said, touching Sierra's arm gently. "We'll wait here for your man. We won't leave without him."

"Is it safe for you? What if the demons-"

_"The demons cannot claim them again. Now that their minds are clear, they cannot be recaptured. However, we will guard them, if it will ease your worry."_

"OK, eavesdropping dragons, very creepy," Alistair said, narrowing his eyes.

"Now you have no excuse," Topher said, shaking a finger at her. "Come on, say your goodbyes to us and go spend time with your Alistair. It's what you wished for."

Sierra suddenly couldn't speak. She looked up at Topher and pressed her lips together. "If it hadn't been for you," she whispered, blinking rapidly to clear her tears, "I never would've-"

"You give me _entirely_ too much credit," he said. "It was all you. I just listened to you talk without contributing much of anything."

"Lies," she insisted, grabbing his hands. "I owe you _everything_."

Leaning down, he whispered in her ear. "I'd like to believe you, since the griffon told me it blocked me from crossing over to aid the next Warden this happened to. I'd like to think my six hundred year exile wasn't in vain. I didn't say it out loud because I didn't want Pria to-"

"No secrets, mage," Pria chimed. "Quit hogging our heroine!" She pulled Sierra into her arms and hugged her fiercely. "Thank you for helping us."

"You're welcome," the elf responded, taking advantage of the moment to look over the other woman's shoulder at Topher in horror. The spirit had kept the mage in the fortress on the off chance that this would happen again? For six hundred years?

Apparently helpfulness had an extreme, just like anything else.

Pria let her go, and as she turned to Victor, she could hear Alistair apologizing to Pria for snapping at her when Sierra was dying.

Victor smiled sheepishly before kissing her on the cheek. "I know you didn't have to help us."

"Of course I did. I promised you," she winked at him. "I always keep my promises."

He laughed. "Just the same…thank you." Closing his eyes, he shook his head bitterly. "To think, my failure would have doomed her to that torture forever. All because I couldn't think the way you did."

The elf fidgeted uncomfortably. "It's not like that. It was a fluke. And I had Topher-"

"So did I," Victor pointed out, snorting. "We still failed. You're something special, Sierra."

She felt like the blush went all the way down to her toes.

"Thanks for not telling Pria about Topher," he added, dropping his voice. "It would've been really easy for you to say it earlier."

"No thanks needed. That's all you, brother," she laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Good luck with that."

He swallowed hard, glancing at the blond woman, who was still in deep discussion with Alistair. "You think the Gods will protect me from _her_?"

Sierra laughed again, and gave the Warden a shrug. "Maybe."

"Are you ready, love?" Alistair asked, coming up behind her. He held out his hand to Victor, who shook it warmly. "Meet you back here."

"We'll be waiting for you, brother," Victor nodded. "Take your time."

Sierra clasped her hands together, looking at the three other Wardens. It seemed surreal, seeing them all together. After hearing about them from Topher, it had felt like a fairytale. Yet here they were before her, the infamous trio of the Third Blight.

Her gaze rested on Topher again, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Go on," he urged. "I'll never forget you, don't worry."

"Better not!" she half-shouted. "I'll come find you if you do."

"Promise not to forget me, either?"

That did her in. The tears spilled out, and she sniffled, "Promise."

Alistair put an arm around her shoulder, gently leading her away. She was grateful for it; she wasn't sure that she could make herself go. As they walked, Sierra managed to get her emotions under control. Alistair deserved all her focus, and he would have it. She just needed a minute.

From behind them, she heard Pria shriek, "Victor, you did _what_?"

"Oh, dear," she whispered, biting her lip. She willed herself not to turn around. If she saw them again, especially Topher, the tears would start back up.

"What?" Alistair asked, confused. He looked back. "Um, why is she-?"

"I'm guessing they just told her how Topher died," Sierra answered.

"Should that inspire her to try to beat Victor to death? That's what it looks like she's trying to do, anyway."

"It should."

He stopped watching the others and turned to her. "How _did_ Topher die?"

She took a deep breath. "All part of the story, love, which you'll hear as soon as we find a place to settle down." She glanced around the crater, trying to find an out-of-the-way corner for some privacy.

Urthemiel caught her attention with an errant wing flap. It gestured with its head to the wall.

Sierra looked, and she could see firelight flickering in a cave in the crater wall that had not been there a moment ago. Turning back to the God, she bent her head in thanks. Taking her lover's hand, she led him to it.

Inside, they found a brightly burning fire and a fur spread across the floor that suspiciously looked like-

"Is that the same fur from that night in the Frostback Mountains?" he asked, voice strangled.

"I think it is," she said, shoulders shaking with repressed giggles. At this point, she was used to her most private thoughts being a playground for other beings.

"How did they know?" Alistair's eyes were a bit wild.

"Oh, darling. After the year I've had, the Gods of the Tevinter Imperium magically knowing about our first night together…" She made a dismissive gesture. "Hardly surprising."

"Well, then," he gulped, "if you say so." Taking a deep breath, he turned to face her. "So, totally ignoring how utterly creepy that is…" He smiled warmly, stroking her cheek. "Hi. How are you?"

"Good," she replied, closing her eyes and relishing the touch of his fingertips on her skin. "How are you?"

"I'm good." His voice lost some warmth then, growing serious. "I want to hear about everything. Everything after the Archdemon. Everything up until you climbed into that hole in the mountain and made me remember you."

Opening her eyes, she sighed. She'd known this was coming. That didn't mean she looked forward to the telling. "This isn't going to be pleasant, love, for either of us."

"Don't care," he replied. "I need to know. About that spirit, about Topher, about this 'year' you keep referring to. Has it really been a year?"

"Yes. Why? Does it feel shorter?"

He laughed a little. "Actually it feels longer. Torture will do that to you, I guess."

Sierra blanched, fists clenching. "Indeed."

He noticed her reaction, and quickly grabbed her hands, unrolling her fists by force. "Look, I know you. You want to focus on what happened to me, pretending nothing went on with you. I'm not stupid, you know, I've picked up on all the little…references you've been throwing around."

"I have _never_ thought you were stupid!" she shouted.

"Really? Not even when I failed to mention I was Maric's son until way after it should've been mentioned?"

She glared at him, gritting her teeth. "Maybe then."

"Right. Anyway, from what I've gathered, this wasn't a picnic for you, either. Glossing right over the part when you very nearly _died_, of course."

Sierra shifted guiltily from foot to foot. "That's a bit of an exaggeration, isn't it?" she said nervously, wringing her hands. She knew it wasn't, of course, but perhaps she could salvage this yet.

"I felt you stop breathing," he hissed angrily, dropping her hands. "In my arms…I felt you _stop breathing_!" He was shouting now. "Don't think you can give me your innocent eyes and explain that away!"

Her dark eyes blinked in shock. Alistair hadn't raised his voice at her like that since she'd allowed Lady Isolde to sacrifice herself to save Connor. That memory still pained the elf greatly. She had felt trapped between two horrible decisions: death of the mother, or death of the son. Time had been paramount, and the trip to the Circle Tower seemed too great a risk to take-

"And, according to the griffon, you almost died _before _you got here, too!" he yelled, fury flaring across his body like a flame. "I told you to be safe, not get yourself into trouble!" He gave her his best glare, his amber eyes piercing.

"It wasn't my choice," she whispered stiffly. She wasn't about to tell him it was his fault, technically. Her madness had been a result of his torture. Sierra was still working on how she was going to manage to edit that out of the story.

"Nothing's your _choice_!" he countered, his anger ratcheting his muscles tight across his frame. "You end up nearly getting yourself killed helping people all the time! I shouldn't be surprised that the moment I let you out of my sight, you're at it again! Stretching yourself too thin, too far!"

The elf bit her tongue, though her body throbbed with the desire to respond. Love rose up, warm and soft, to soothe her aching ego. He needed to say these things. She had scared him by almost dying. His anger stemmed from his love. Sometimes, it was all right to swallow one's pride in a huge gulp and let one's lover shout.

"You're not immortal, you know!" he continued. He threw his arms wide. "Like here! What were you thinking, trying to save everyone? I haven't forgiven you for lying to me about what would happen if you stayed here too long, by the way!"

Love could only pacify her dignity so much.

"Oh, good," she shot back, temper rising quickly, "because _I_ haven't forgiven _you_ for conspiring with Leliana to keep me from killing the Archdemon." She batted her eyelashes at him in mock innocence. "Shall we have that fight now? Think before you answer, Warden, because I've had a whole year to let that boil!"

Alistair backed up in the face of her outburst, taken by surprise. He narrowed his eyes. "Yes, let's have that fight," he finally said. His anger had faded; his expression cool and calculating.

"What?" she snapped, staring at him incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Sure," he replied, though he licked his lips nervously. "I'm pretty pissed off, and I've had a turn yelling. Knowing you, if you say you haven't forgiven me, you're _way_ more pissed off than I am, which means you need to shout, too." He paused, then laced his fingers together behind his neck. "Let me have it. I deserve it."

"You sure you deserve it?" she snorted.

He chuckled. "Don't men always deserve to be shouted at for something or other?"

She laughed harshly, then sobered. Of course, she didn't want to scream at him. It was all over, all in the past. And yet, a small part of her _did_ want to scream at him. For the pain, the hurt, the _aloneness_. For what had felt like a betrayal. She'd taken it out on Leliana at the time. Now, she had the true object of that anger in front of her. Gods, how she loved him. Gods, how, on the top of Fort Drakon, just for a moment, she'd hated him.

And he had shouted at her, after all.

She felt for the place where she'd kept it all bottled up inside. There! In the back, where blame, failure, self-loathing, and other unbecoming feelings were hidden.

She let him have it.


	20. Chapter 20

"You made me the leader," she hissed with quiet fury, hands starting to shake. "The decision of who killed the Archdemon was _mine _to make. Mine!"

The thunder in her head drowned out all rationale, all common sense. "How dare you defy my command…" The temper that the Keeper had always lamented, that made her such a powerful berserker, took her over. "How dare you _abandon_ me?" she bellowed at the top of her lungs.

He flinched, as if she'd struck him.

From there, it degenerated into complete and utter chaos. She was vaguely aware of gesturing emphatically almost constantly, pointing at him accusingly, and advancing forward in a threatening enough manner that he backed away from her on several occasions. He stoically bore it all, not looking away from her wild, fuming eyes.

She wasn't even sure what she was saying for most of it. The rage and loss had tried to consume her after Alistair's death, but she'd tied it up and tossed it to the back of her brain, burying it with self-hatred. But without that fury, that passion, she'd been an empty shell.

She wondered how long she could have gone on like that.

Coming back to herself a bit, she began to hear what she was saying again. "You left me!" she screamed, her voice starting to get hoarse. "Left me alone to deal with those…those…" a spattering of Dalish words snarled out, "_shemlen_! Anora, Eamon, Teagan, Wynne-!"

The rage faded then, like a fire extinguished with a bucket of water. The red haze that clouded her vision evaporated so she could see the man she had risked everything for. His fists were clenched, his face turned slightly to the side, chest hitching with uneven breaths. He was still watching her, though. He had not averted his eyes, despite her wrath being fully directed at him.

Ah, what a partner he would've made for her. What a pair they would've made.

Falling quiet, she curled her arms around her chest, trying to keep herself from flying apart. "They hardly acknowledged your death," she whispered brokenly. Her voice twisted, rising in a mocking falsetto, "'Oh, Hero of Ferelden, your adoring public awaits!'" She spat violently. "I didn't want it, didn't need it, couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle _anything_ without you!

"I have _never _felt so alone. I couldn't pick myself up afterwards. I wanted to die…"

She crashed down to her knees weakly, head falling forward in exhaustion.

He was there in an instant, on his knees in front of her.

"And now," she said, still speaking quietly, raising her eyes to look at him, "it is I who must beg your forgiveness."

"Why?" he asked desperately, face filling with bewildered pain.

The elf folded her hands in supplication. "For underestimating you." Her lips twisted; how to say this without being insulting? "Please, don't take this the wrong way, but…it didn't even occur to me that you would make the sacrifice. That you would challenge my claim to it."

Her head fell again as her tears blurred her vision. "It's not because I doubted how you felt for me. I just…just…never thought-" She slammed her mouth shut for a few moments. "It was wrong of me. So wrong. To think that you wouldn't save me, to think that you would follow that command as you had followed all the others I'd ever given, to think that-"

With one hand, Alistair pulled her face up roughly. With the other, he grabbed her clasped hands. "Stop! Please, stop talking like that!" He tried to pull her into his arms.

"Wait, there's more!" she protested, blocking his embrace. "Morrigan. She-" Her sentence was lost in the sob that welled up in her throat.

His face darkened immediately. "What? What did she do?"

Sierra told him of the offer.

Alistair's lips pressed together in a thin line of anger as his eyebrows knotted. "I never would've done that. Never."

"What if I'd asked you to?" she challenged frantically. "What if I'd _told_ you to?"

"No!" He seized her shoulders and shook her. "I would _not_ have done that! Not to you, not to myself!"

"Not even to save yourself? Not even to save _me_?"

He stiffened, fingers digging into her skin. His mouth opened, then he shut it quickly. "It doesn't matter what I would've done. You made a decision about it, and I stand by your choice."

A huge weight lifted off her shoulders, and Sierra wept with relief. She'd never even known that was there, following her around, bearing down on her like only the guilt of the lover left behind can.

His fingers dug still deeper into her shoulders. "Is it all right if I hug you now, woman?" he demanded, trying to tease but the strained tone in his voice made it a lie.

Unable to speak, she nodded emphatically and reveled in the feeling of being pulled into his arms, pressed against his chest, held and protected. In the arms of her almost-templar, her fellow Grey Warden, nothing could touch her.

Stroking her hair, he whispered, "You know I can't say I'm sorry, right?"

She nodded against him.

"Good, because I can't apologize for saving your life."

She wiggled as close to him as she could get. "Stand by my choice in everything except the Archdemon, hmm?" she finally sniffled as the tears abated.

"Everything but that," he answered firmly, squeezing her tighter.

Sierra allowed herself the comfort of staying quietly in his grasp for a bit longer, before she pulled away to look up into his weary amber eyes. "You still want to hear the rest?" she asked.

Wiping her face gently, he nodded. "Yes. Tell me everything."

She did.

When the tale was done and all was told, from Athras to Leliana, from the Grand Oak to the agonizing snowfall, from Topher to Morrigan's mountain hut, from the murderous thoughts to the joy of rescuing Zevran, and every torturous nightmare and sleepless night in between, she fell silent. She had been too exhausted to edit the story like she'd planned, so now she watched her lover cautiously.

"Oh, my love," he whispered in the quiet, eyes wide with horror. "It's a really good thing I killed the Archdemon." He dropped his chin to chest.

"Why's that?" She tried to tilt his face up, but he twisted away from her fingers. "Alistair-"

Jerking his head up violently, he wailed, "Because I don't think I would've had the strength to do what you've done!" His voice broke and his face crumpled in grief.

"Oh, love," she whispered, cupping his face between her hands, "of course you would have. I know you'd do anything for me."

"No!" he cried out. "You're so much braver than me, so much smarter! I wouldn't have figured it out…and you would've been trapped here! Like Pria!"

"Alistair," Sierra scolded gently, "I don't think you would've let anything stop you from getting to me."

He started shaking his head frantically. "But…but…" His ragged breathing tore the sentence from his lips incomplete. "It's all my fault!"

The breath rushed out of the elf's lungs like someone had punched her in the stomach. This was the reaction she had feared. "No," she said firmly, tightening her hold on his face so that he couldn't look away. "It is _not_ your fault. It is _no one's_ fault…except maybe those disgusting demons."

"You were nearly driven mad, nearly died, because of my-"

"Stop!" she insisted. "Love, it's not your fault!"

"It is!"

"Alistair," she commanded, "listen to me. After everything, I told you I wanted to die, right? Well, this…thing gave me something to live for. I had to save you, and that led me on the most incredible journey. I met Topher, I reconciled with Leliana, and I rescued not only you…but three more Grey Wardens and two Gods from this mess. I got to _see you again_." She smirked. "I got to tell you off for leaving me to carry on without you. Dear one, I wouldn't trade any of that for _anything_."

His breathing evened out, and his eyes lost their look of despair. "Maker's breath, what did I do to deserve you?" he murmured.

She smiled, stroking his lips with her thumb. "You were only the most loving, most courageous, most selfless man I'd ever met. That's all."

"Oh, is that it?" Alistair tried to smile, and failed. "That doesn't sound like enough to be worth all that."

"It is."

"If you say so."

"I do."

His eyes focused, and he tensed a bit. He pushed forward suddenly, kissing her with enough feeling to steal the air from her lungs.

So long without him. So long…alone.

Sierra responded fervently, and he let her push him onto his back as she straddled him. Lust pulsed through her rejuvenated body urgently. Her hands slid under his dirty, mangled rag of a shirt. She moaned at the familiar shape of his muscles under her fingertips.

Pulling her lips away from his, she whispered against his ear, "Think the Gods will mind?"

"Am I supposed to be _caring_ about that right now?"

She laughed deep in her throat. "No."

Whether it was the Fade or the time apart, the desperation or the reunion, Sierra didn't know. Perhaps it was nothing at all, just their love.

Whatever it was or wasn't, she knew only one thing when it was over: she'd felt as if she were going to tumble off the edge of reality, to fall away into a limitless sea of sensation. He'd blended into her body, her mind, until where she'd ended and he'd began was a blur. Hours, days…who knew how long they'd gone on? She liked to think days.

Clad only in the fire's light, he looked down, held above her only by the considerable strength of his arms. "Wish there'd been time for more of _that_ on our travels!" he drawled, winking.

"If you hadn't been so damned shy, I'd have had my way with you that first night outside of Lothering!" she replied, laughing.

"Really?"

The elf nodded. "Oh, yes, my innocent Chantry boy. I knew that I wanted you already." Her voice softened. "I didn't know I was going to love you, to want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Alistair's arms sagged a little as the breath rushed out of him, and he dropped himself down beside her. "Your love made me a better man," he whispered in her ear.

"You were already the best man I'd ever known. I didn't improve you, at all."

"But you did. Without you, I never would've known what it was like to love someone so much…that you'd die for them."

Sierra bit her lip as tears immediately sprang to her eyes. There it was, the ghost in the room they were currently ignoring. Staring her viciously in the face. Refusing to just…_sod off._

Staying here forever, like this, with him, was not an option. She turned to face him. "It's not going to get any easier."

He smiled softly. "I know."

"So, maybe I should just…"

He shrugged, stroking a finger down her arm. "It's up to you, love." He grabbed one of her hands and kissed it.

She turned away abruptly, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't look at him. Not right now. "Are you sure you'd be mad if I changed my wish? If I…stayed?"

"Furious," he growled, kissing her hand again.

Sierra rolled to her feet, pulling on her garments. He did the same.

They stood a few feet apart. A dreadful feeling had settled in her stomach, making her want to retch. His face, however, radiated serenity. "Why are you so damned _calm_?" she demanded.

His shoulders rose and fell in a graceful shrug. "Because you get to enjoy the gift I so badly wanted to give you that night: your life. This time, I even get a proper goodbye." He smiled winningly at her. "What else could a man ask for?"

"Oh, Alistair," she moaned, clenching her fists and digging her nails into her palms. "Love, if I could-"

"I know," he answered, holding out a hand for her.

She rushed forward to take it, to push against his chest. His arms wrapped around her tightly. "I love you," she said desperately, squeezing him with all her might. "I love you _so_."

"And I love you," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, you know that, right?"

"I know."

"I'll always be with you." He took a deep breath, and Sierra raised her head to look into his gorgeous amber eyes. "I know you feel…alone, without me. Maker knows why," he teased briefly, a half-smile crinkling his mouth. "You're not, though. Not ever. I will _always_ be with you. Understand?"

Biting her tongue to keep the sobs in, she nodded.

He kissed her sweetly then, and she savored the taste of his tongue on hers.

They stood there for a while, staring at each other intently. Not moving, barely daring to breathe. She knew it was up to her. Urthemiel would not take action without her word. She could not stand here forever.

Never in her life had anything been harder to do.

"Urthemiel," she whispered, burying her face against his chest again. She felt him press his lips to the top of her head. Shutting her eyes, she blocked out everything except Alistair. His scent, his skin, his strength. She would need every memory of him her mind could contain if she was going to survive life without him. "Take me back."

A dull roar filled her ears, and she dug her fingers into his shirt frantically. But the feel of the rough fabric was fading. It was all fading. An anguished groan pushed out of her mouth.

Gone.

Her eyes flew open to see a thatched ceiling and poor light. The sounds of a crackling fire. She sat up sharply, and skittered backwards frantically. She backed into a wall in her haste, rattling the pots and pans hanging near the fire.

"Sierra?" gasped Leliana. "Oh, we were so worried! You started shaking, you stopped breathing for a moment!" The bard unfolded her legs, as if to get to her feet and approach the elf.

Morrigan held out a restraining arm, blocking the Orlesian. Her reptilian eyes stared at the Grey Warden. "Did you succeed?" she asked.

"Yes," Sierra breathed distractedly, eyes darting around the interior of the hut. Done. Over. She had been in his arms, pressed against his magnificent body. Now… Gone.

"I knew you could do it!" Leliana cried, clapping her hands together. Giving Morrigan an irritated glare, she tried to push passed her arm.

"No," Morrigan said sternly, not taking her gaze off the elf.

Sierra stared back. For the first time, she and the witch shared a moment of perfect understanding. She didn't know how, but it seemed Morrigan knew exactly what roared through her head. Roared…and demanded release.

Throwing back her head, Sierra let out a brokenhearted scream that shook the rafters.

Swiftly, mercifully, the darkness of uninterrupted, blissful sleep rushed up to engulf her, swallowing her whole.


	21. Chapter 21

Sierra slept, and slept, and slept some more. There were no dreams, no nightmares. Nothing.

Occasionally, she caught snippets of conversation from her companions. Rarely did she hear enough for it to make sense. Every time she moved, rolled over, or twitched, the voices would immediately hush. Right before she drifted off again, she would hear the murmurs of resumed discussion.

She had no idea how much time went by.

Some time later, she opened her eyes finally. She was greeted with more darkness. Well, partial darkness. She blinked slowly, watching the fire's light dance across the walls.

"Awake, I see," came Morrigan's voice quietly.

Sierra turned to see the witch sitting near the fire, stirring a pot that dangled over the flames. The elf was laying in a makeshift bed of furs along the opposite wall. "How long have I been asleep?" she croaked, her voice rusty from lack of use.

"A few days," Morrigan answered noncommittally. "Are you hungry?"

The Grey Warden shook her head. Strangely, she wasn't. "Where's Leliana?"

Morrigan gestured to the adjoining room. "Using my bed, and making a mess of it, I might add. We have been taking turns. She did not think it wise if you were to wake and think you were alone."

Cocking her head, the elf could hear the sound of gentle snores coming from the darkened room. Sierra's lips curled in a smile.

"It is quite early in the morning," the apostate said, changing the subject. "Do you perhaps think you could fall back to sleep until sunrise? You're more than welcome to get up now, if you wish, of course."

"No, I'll sleep some more," Sierra said readily, settling back down into the furs. She did not feel good enough to face her new reality just yet. Maybe sleeping the rest of the night would help. She snorted to herself. Not likely. "Oh, and Morrigan?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you…for putting me to sleep when I got back."

The elf watched the pale woman freeze, mid-stir. The light was too dim to be sure, but Sierra was almost positive she saw a blush bleed across Morrigan's cheeks.

"Well…" she finally stammered. "You needed it, obviously."

"Of course," the Grey Warden agreed, "but I alsoneeded to _not _relive losing Alistair all over again. So, thank you."

The silence stretched out. "You…spoke to him, then?" the witch eventually asked.

"Yes," Sierra answered simply, feeling her throat tighten a bit.

"That is…" Morrigan stopped herself, and pulled her spine straighter. "That is…good. I am," she cleared her throat, "happy for you."

Pulling the furs up to her chin, Sierra smiled at flustering the somber mage. She closed her dark eyes, and drifted back to sleep.

_She walked through a jagged mountain pass, the walls of rock rising up to incredible heights on either side of her. Above her, she recognized the boiled, purple sky of the Fade too well. This, however, was just a dream._

_ Looking down, she saw that she wore a beautiful green gown, the fabric ebbing and flowing around her bare feet as she moved. She giggled; she'd rival Anora herself if she showed up at the palace in this._

_ Up ahead of her, she could hear loud, boisterous splashing, and she quickened her pace._

_ The pass abruptly ended, opening up into a great valley. Nearby was a sparkling, clear lake. The source of the splashing was impossible to miss. Sierra gathered her skirts and made her way over._

_ She paused as she drew close, folding her knees and bending her head._

"Rise up." _Urthemiel's voice reverberated all around her, and she obediently straightened her legs to look up at the towering dragon._

_ "Enjoying your freedom?" she asked. The God lay on its side, front legs crossed, head lifted like a dog who'd heard a sound in the night. The posture was so like that of her old mabari that Sierra's heart ached a bit._

"Toth is, to be sure."

_The elf turned to look. The other God was completely in the lake, rolling playfully in the water, splashing delightedly and generally making as much racket as it could. Its wings unfurled suddenly, sending huge amounts of water dancing through the air. It shook its head, then buried its snout below the surface, blowing enormous bubbles._

_ Sierra couldn't help but smile._

_ "You seem to do all the talking. Why doesn't Toth speak?" she asked, curious._

_ There was no answer for a few long minutes. _"Toth was imprisoned far longer than I. When we were trapped, we reverted to these forms we inhabit to escape the torture. Only after you freed us could we remember who we are. It will be far more difficult for Toth to recall that the form is not all that exists."

_Her forehead wrinkled with confusion. "So, you aren't really dragons? You just look like them?"_

_ Urthemiel turned away from its fellow deity to look down its long snout at her. _"What is 'really' a dragon? Do you know?"

_She squirmed uncomfortably. "Well…not _all_ dragons are Gods, surely."_

"You are correct, but which are, and which are not? That is something even we do not always know. Our world, and its inhabitants, is forever changing."_ It paused then, turning to look at Toth frolicking in the lake._ "We have existed in many forms, for many years. Sometimes it is a choice, sometimes it is a necessity. We all do what we must."

_"Of course," she agreed readily._

"Still…" _It blew air from its nostrils heavily. _"It pains me to see one of my kin reduced to such base instincts."

_"Toth will recover, though, yes?" she asked, watching the oblivious, playful dragon again._

"Undoubtedly, but by a timeline I am not aware of." _It snorted, rustling its folded wings. _"It is, however, unseemly." _When Sierra said nothing, it added, _"For beings such as us to be so lowered." _It rolled one large eye to look at her._

_Sierra did not know what to say, and so she shifted her weight from foot to foot nervously. _

"You wonder why you are here, yes? Why we have called you."

_"Yes," she admitted. "In fact, why are you still…here? I did free you, didn't I?" Her heart leapt in her throat a bit. If the dragons were still trapped, then what of the rest of them? Victor and Pria? Alistair…?_

"Be calm." _The eye looking at her was kind, as if it sensed her distress. _"Your fellows Warden have crossed over. They are at peace. Toth and I have the ability to be where we wish to be. Death does not hinder us much, except, of course, when we are trapped by foul demons."_ It turned its great head to focus both eyes on her._

_ "I plan to go to the head of the Grey Wardens," she explained. "To make sure this doesn't happen again."_

"You feel that will be enough to prevent this?"

_ She blinked, unsure of where the God was going with that question. "Yes."_

"I do not share your optimism."

_ "I'm not sure what-"_

"We do not wish to see any more of our kin so belittled. It makes us appear weak to our foes." _It lowered its head a little bit, drawing closer to her. _

_ "Your foes?" she echoed. "No Grey Wardens know about your capture, except me."_

"You and your order are not our foes. Battles are being fought, and wars are being waged right now that you are completely unaware of. Our world is not yours."

_Sierra clenched her fists involuntarily. This was a realm of problems and combat that she wanted nothing to do with. It didn't matter. What mattered was the dragon's previous statement. "I assume you have a suggestion, since my solution is not satisfactory to you."_

"We have called you here, because we have a proposition for you."

_ A feeling of unease suddenly rippled down Sierra's skin. "What would that be?" she asked cautiously._

"We would have you become our instrument in your realm. We would have you dispatch the last two of our kin when they become infected with the darkspawn's disease. This way, no mortal can cloud the issue with their love for one of their fellows. The last two will not be subjected to what Toth and I have been subjected to."

_The elf's mouth fell open in shock. There were so many things that were completely impossible with this idea. Perhaps it simply didn't understand her limitations as a mortal. Obviously, it knew she could die…but maybe it didn't know just how easily._

"Do not fear. We will not send you out to do this errand unaided. We will open a channel between ourselves and you, giving you access to power only dreamed of by others of your kind."

_Oh, Gods. It had misinterpreted her shock for fear. "Urthemiel," she began, trying to make her tone as reasonable as possible, "I have no desire for power such as that. Besides, I will not live to see the next Blight."_

"Without assistance, of course not. We can make you immortal, lengthen your years until your task is complete."

_Sierra stared up at the God in growing horror. "I…I don't want to be immortal," she said slowly, nerves making her tongue thick. "Really. Your offer is…generous, but I can't-"_

"You wished for more time, did you not?" _Its eyes were piercing, calculating._

_ "Yes, but that was in the Fade," she said, her voice becoming stern. She felt like she was scolding a child who was deliberately misunderstanding its bedtime, a child old enough to know better. "You know I didn't mean it like this."_

"You wished for more time. We are simply granting your wish."

_Her heart began pounding, and the Grey Warden felt anger flare up, and all respectful mannerisms before the God fled. "You're the ones who call the darkspawn!" she hissed. "If you don't want to be tainted, don't call them to you! Tell your fellows _that_!"_

"We have no choice but to call them. We are buried underground, trapped. We want freedom, and the darkspawn are the only way out. We do not want to be twisted, infected. The entire Blight, when we are what you call 'Archdemons', we are mad. It is not pleasant, to be mad." _It narrowed its huge eyes at her._ "I believe you know just how unpleasant it is."

_"Look," she spluttered, trying to let her mind sail right past what the dragon had said, but it was hard. The Grey Warden in her shrieked in shock. Were the Old Gods really just as much the victims during a Blight as anyone else? "I can't defeat _two_ Gods! I'll die after the first one! Remember, that's how you were trapped in the first place! Alistair died to kill you!"_

"I remember. Our connection will transform you. You will become more than a Grey Warden, above their limitations. You will be our agent, our Champion. In striking down the last two of our kin, you shall not perish. When the last is struck down, you shall be allowed to live out the rest of your lifespan as if we had not interfered. Then you will die naturally, or on a different battlefield of your choosing. The decision is yours."

_ Sierra felt like she'd lost control of the entire conversation. She had an urge to flee, to just run away, but the rational part of her brain told her that was likely impossible. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. "Urthemiel. Your offer is an honor, truly, but I have no desire to be your Champion." She spread her arms wide. "I'm sure there are plenty of others you could call who would love the opportunity, the abilities. In fact, there's a mage in the hut where my body is sleeping right now who'd leap at the thought of such power. Let me wake, and I'll-"_

"We do not want anyone else to be our Champion. We want you to be our Champion. Your…need to try, that which drove you to succeed almost at the cost of your own life. We want that."

_Now the urge to run was almost overwhelming. Putting up her hands, the elf started backing away from the dragon slowly. "Really, I cannot accept. I've had enough excitement, I just want to live out the rest of my life in peace and quiet-"_

_ The God bent its head towards her, until its tooth-filled mouth was mere inches away from her. _"Perhaps there has been a misunderstanding…"

_Breathing a huge sigh of relief, the elf smiled gratefully. "Yes, definitely. I-"_

_ The dragon swiveled its head, and one massive eye stared at her. _"You seem to think we are giving you a choice…Champion."

_A loud buzzing filled her ears, and the only thing she could hear above it was Toth's contented splashing. Her mouth went dry, making it hard to swallow. Vaguely, she remembered something Ashalle had told her once: to be favored by the Gods was not always a good thing. _

_ Turning its head and opening its mouth, Urthemiel exhaled forcefully. Sierra shut her eyes as the gust of wind made her stumble back a bit._

Dawn's light filtered through the hut's curtained windows. She stared at the ceiling hard, as if it were somehow to blame for this. Was it true? Or had it just been a horrible dream? Her mind chided her gently and her lips twisted; she'd had enough visions to know what was dream and what wasn't. It may have seemed like a normal dream at first, but that had been no dream.

A solid weight in her hand drew her attention. She lifted her hand, and saw a brilliantly gold coin between her fingers. Flipping it back and forth, her eyes narrowed as first Urthemiel's, then Toth's face shined at her from their individual sides.

She let her hand drop, dejectedly, back to the furs she laid on. She had things she needed to do. Once those things were completed, she'd be able to devote all her time to figuring out this latest…mess.

Try as she might, Sierra could not muster up any rage at this new, horrifying development. All she felt was resignation. Was that part of their "connection"? Had they take away her flash of anger, her beautiful, red-rimmed rage and replaced it with this…cold acceptance? Filled her up with icy calm instead of dark fire? Without Alistair, she supposed there wasn't much of a need for passion, anyway.

"You're awake!" Leliana chirruped, and came bounding across the room.

The elf managed to sit up in time to meet the other woman's overenthusiastic embrace. She grunted with the impact of the bard against her chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Leliana said immediately, pulling away. "Did I hurt you? How are you feeling?" Her blue eyes filled with concern. "Are you…better?"

Sierra laughed as convincingly as she could. "That's a lot of questions."

"Yes, Leliana, don't smother the woman," Morrigan sniped from near the fire.

The Orlesian glared at the witch, and the Warden looked past the bard to the raven-haired woman across the room. There was no hint of the small, very open discussion they'd had hours before. Morrigan had gone back to being Morrigan: shut as tightly as an unripe walnut.

"Are you hungry?" the bard asked. "Morrigan said you weren't last night, but surely you must be by now!"

The elf smiled and nodded. Apparently her acting skills had improved, because the Orlesian's answered grin was huge. Grabbing the Grey Warden's hand, she dragged her to the hearth.

Leliana chatted incessantly as they ate, asking question after question about what had happened. Sierra answered obediently with feigned cheerfulness, only sobering when she reached the parting with Alistair.

The bard seemed pleased with the elf's recitation, and busied herself with discussion about what their next step would be. She was campaigning vigorously for the trip to Orlais and buying dresses. Sierra remained noncommittal, but nodded in all the right places.

Glancing over at Morrigan, she felt a chill run through her spine. The witch did not seem fooled by her act in the slightest. She stared at Sierra with an intensity the Warden found disturbing, like the elf had suddenly become very interesting.

Sierra kept up the dance for the rest of the day. Leliana's excitement and joy practically filled the cabin, but the elf remained untouched by it. Morrigan continue to watch the Warden, as if she were waiting for something to happen. Sierra tried to convince herself that the mage was simply on the lookout for another emotional outburst…but the feeble explanation didn't stick very well.

"I'm going to gather some firewood," Sierra said as the other two women were gathering the ingredients for the evening meal.

"I'll come with you!" Leliana said immediately.

"No, it's fine," Sierra insisted. "I…need some time to think."

The bard's face filled with compassion. "It's about Alistair, isn't it?"

The elf almost let loose a hysterical giggle. "Yes," she lied, hoping her face was convincing.

"I understand," the bard replied, stepping forward to give Sierra a quick hug. "Don't wander too far!"

Sierra assured her she wouldn't, swung her huge cloak over her shoulders, and quickly left the hut. Her breath puffed out in plumes as she strode determinedly away. Privacy, privacy, privacy… The woods this high up the mountains were sparse and filled with rugged evergreens. It would have to be enough. She walked purposefully inside.

Beneath the shadows of the thick boughs, where only a few beams of dying sunlight came through, Sierra took a deep, shaking breath. The presence of the trees granted her Dalish sensibilities a margin of relief. Reaching beneath her armor, she yanked out the coin with the dragons' faces on it. Acting on a hunch, she clutched it tightly in her fist and squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to clear her mind of everything but Urthemiel and Toth.

_She opened her eyes, and she stood before the dragon again. The damnable green gown swirled around her ankles as she stomped forward._

_ "How dare you!" she demanded, craning her neck to look up at the God accusingly. _

"I see you have discovered how you can reach us." _Urthemiel looked down at her. _"You already prove we chose well in picking you."

_ "I don't want this," she hissed frantically, ignoring the compliment. "I freed you, and I didn't have to! This is how you show your thanks?"_

"You wished for more time. We are granting your wish."

_ "You're twisting my words! You _know_ that's not what I meant!" she cried._

"You will retain your looks, your semblance of youth, if that is what is bothering you."

_"That is not what's bothering me!" she shrieked. "What am going to do with power, with immortality?!" the elf added desperately, throwing up her hands._

_ The dragon's eyes shined eerily. _"Whatever you wish. You may use the power you have access to as much as you like, not just for assistance in striking down our kin." _Its voice changed in timbre slightly. _"You could be revered as a God. You could rule nations."

_Revulsion spread across her flesh. "I won't do that. If that's what you mean for me to do, you've got the wrong woman!"_

_ The shine faded from Urthemiel's eyes, as if in disappointment. _"Use it as you wish." _It stood up tall, looking back at Toth, who had not yet tired of swimming. _"We care not. Just complete your task."

_ "If I don't?" she snarled. "What if I leave your kin to be slain by other Wardens? With the information I know, I could _make sure_ that it is done by Wardens in love, guaranteeing that the final two Gods are ensnared by demons!"_

_ A long period of silence stretched out, only broken by intermittent splashing from Toth. _"You would not do such a thing."

_"No?" she laughed coldly. "You don't think I'm capable of that kind of spite?"_

"Indeed you are. You would not condemn others to endure what you have just to satisfy your spitefulness, however. Your nature will not allow you to."

_All the bravado leaked out of her Sierra's body. She hung her head. The dragon was right; she could never. Her eyes blurred with angry tears. Why did _everyone_ insist on making her live longer? Duncan, Morrigan had tried and failed, Alistair…twice, and now two ancient Gods. Was there to be no rest for her? No mercy?_

"Go back now, Champion."

_"Don't call me that," she whispered, lifting her head to glare at Urthemiel. _

"It is what you are."

_ "You have no idea what I am," she growled, "but since we're going to be working together for a while, you'll find out."_

_ Sierra thought of the cold evergreen forest on the Frostback Mountains._

The forest's quiet felt deafening. Her fist tightened around the golden coin until it was painful, and she had to force her muscles to relax. So… This was where her life had led her; this was the path she was to walk. She had been hoping to join Alistair beyond the Fade in a reasonable amount of time. Apparently not.

She felt someone else's presence push against her senses. "Hello, Morrigan," she called out, not knowing how she knew it was the witch. Sierra turned around to face the startled woman. "Concerned for me?" she teased.

Morrigan's back straightened stiffly. "I wanted to speak with you…alone."

The elf spread her arms. "We're alone. Say what you'd like to say."

"You are…different since you awoke this morning. Different from even last night, when we talked," the witch began. She narrowed her reptilian eyes. "There's something new about you, something-"

"Powerful?" Sierra supplied, not being able to stand it any longer. If Morrigan knew, then she knew. What was the use in hiding it?"

"Yes," breathed the raven-haired woman. "It's quite riveting. What is it? Or don't you know?"

Holding up the coin, the Warden twirled it delicately between her fingers. The fading light reflected off the surface, splashing Morrigan's face with circles of light. "Do you plan to use the secrets in Flemeth's grimoire to extend your life? To live forever as she did?"

The apostate's face twisted in shock and anger. "That is none of your business!"

Sierra tucked the coin back inside her armor, and it nestled coldly against her skin. "If that's the case…then I suppose I'll be seeing you around." With determined steps, she pushed past her former companion and headed out of the woods.


	22. Chapter 22

It seemed like she had so much to do, but in reality, it was simply that the things she had to do were such great distances apart. Well, it wasn't like she had to be concerned with time any longer, was it?

Prying Leliana away from her had been difficult. Without revealing the truth, it had been next to impossible to convince her to stay in Denerim. Even the prospect of the immense trip to Weisshaupt had not been enough to deter the Orlesian.

"But the Anderfels are so _far_!" Leliana had wailed. "You'll need company! You'll need…someone! What if something happens to you?"

"Nothing's going to happen to me," Sierra had explained patiently.

"But…but…" The bard had wept, begged, and thrown an angry fit, but the elf had been firm.

It was absolutely imperative that she distance herself from people. If she didn't, they would eventually notice her…condition. Besides, she had no interest in watching her dear friend slowly age and die before her eyes. Her sanity was precious to her, after almost losing it, and Sierra certainly wasn't about to do something that could so easily drive it away.

In the end, the brokenhearted bard had sulkily agreed to resume her post as Revered Mother. The elf had promised to visit, which had brightened the other woman considerably. Sierra's mind raced at how often she should visit, how much space to put between each other so as not to be suspect. She inwardly sighed with disgust; a problem for another time.

After returning Leliana to where she'd found her, Sierra set off on her trip to Weisshaupt. She took a ship from Denerim to Cumberland on the other side of the Waking Sea. Water travel did _not_ agree with her Dalish sensibilities, and she spent the entire trip huddled in a ball of misery in her quarters. Once there, her feet blessedly on solid ground, she took the north road straight through Nevarra and the Tevinter Imperium. At Vol Dorma, she had no choice but to leave the road and head west.

To Weisshaupt Fortress.

Its very size staggered her. It seemed to disappear into the low clouds, rising into infinity. As she approached the gate, she was immediately challenged.

"Who goes there?"

"A Grey Warden of Ferelden!" she called, unsure as to where the voice was coming from. She supposed she was the _only _Grey Warden of Ferelden, at this point. Her heart wrenched painfully.

Silence greeted her, and she stamped her feet irritably in the cold. The minutes began to add up, and she wondered if they were going to ignore her until she went away. Well, they'd be waiting a long time. She bit her cheek to stop a bitter laugh. She had all the time in the world.

She began brooding darkly on the words of the Gods. "More than a Grey Warden" kept running through her head. Sneering to herself, she kicked at an errant rock. She'd never exactly wanted to be a Grey Warden in the first place. Now she was _more_ than one? Oh, goody...

Suddenly, the great gates swung open. A squad of young Wardens came out to meet her. They marched in perfect formation. Halting right before her, they looked down at her from their _shemlen_ height. Her heart wrenched again. _He_ had looked down at her from that height.

They were looking at her oddly.

Paranoia gripped her. What was wrong with them? Didn't they think she was a Warden? Couldn't they sense her taint, like she could sense theirs?

More than a Grey Warden...

Her skin broke out in a cold sweat. She could see in their faces that, indeed, they sensed something was...off about her.

_Oh, Gods! _she thought desperately. _Let them think I'm a Warden!_

The chill began at her toes, rippling up through her legs to invade her torso. From there, it flowed down her arms to the tips of her fingers and up her neck to her head. She felt each strand of her red hair lift up a bit as the sensation reached her scalp.

The expressions on the faces of the Wardens before her smoothed out.

"Follow us," commanded the one in the front briskly.

Eyes wide, mouth dry, she obeyed.

As they lead her through the massive halls, Sierra paid no attention. Her mind was spiraling. She was trying to ignore the implications of what she'd just done, but it was next to impossible.

Oh, how jealous would Morrigan be _now_? The elf covered her mouth quickly to stifle the high-strung giggle that tried to burst from her lips.

By the time they reached the High Commander's chambers, she had miraculously calmed herself some. Flanked by only two of her entourage, she went inside, and found herself surprised at the scene. She didn't know what she'd expected, but a man who seemed a scholar was not it. The white-haired man was bent over a slew of papers across his desk, books piled at the corners and on the floor nearby.

He lifted his head, and regarded Sierra with clear green eyes. "The Hero of Ferelden," he said with a small smile, pressing his fingertips together. "From what I'd heard from Queen Anora, you'd disappeared. I'd been preparing to select a contingent of Wardens to assume control of our new lands in the arling of Amaranthine."

"My…'disappearance' is what I've come to talk to you about, High Commander," she answered, ignoring the slightly disapproving tone in his voice. Wincing, she added, "Please, ser, do not call me the 'Hero of Ferelden'."

His smile grew bigger. "Don't like the worship they're heaping on you down there?"

"Not in the least."

"Good. Have a seat." He gestured her to a chair. "Leave us," he told the two Grey Wardens hovering near the door. They bowed, and exited the chamber.

"Thank you." She sank into the soft upholstery, and managed not to sigh with contentment. "My tale is long, High Commander. Is there anything pressing you had planned for the rest of the day?"

He chuckled deeply, leaning back in his chair. "Nothing that can't wait, and you have certainly piqued my interest now, Sierra. Pray, regale me with your tale."

She did.

The more she spoke, the graver the High Commander's expression became. Sierra pointedly left out the part where she saved the Old Gods, and of course the part where she was their immortal agent in this world. Somehow, she doubted the leader of the Grey would be as welcoming if that was known.

He remained silent when she was finished, rubbing the bridge of his nose delicately. "You realize that sounds a little far-fetched, don't you?"

Sierra's shoulders stiffened. While she knew it wasn't actually imperative that he believe her, since she was going to be slaying the next two Archdemons herself, she was still offended. "Ser, I assure you I speak the truth."

"Yet you have no proof."

The elf inhaled as deeply as she could, trying to remain calm. _It doesn't matter if he believes, it doesn't matter if he believes,_ she chanted in her head over and over. "No, High Commander, I have no proof."

"Then I can hardly make a proclamation about it, can I?" He spread his hands wide. "You see my predicament, don't you?"

Rolling her shoulders, her battle axe clanked against her armor a little bit. She found the noise oddly comforting. "I do not ask for a proclamation. I only ask that my experiences be recorded, so if they were to happen again, those left behind have answers."

"Answers," he repeated coolly, drumming the fingers of his right hand on the dark, heavy wood of his desk. "Seems to me you leave them with more questions than answers."

"I seek to give them hope, and to show them there is a way to save their lovers…and themselves," she replied stiffly.

He stared at her for a long time. "That is where you have been, what you were doing when you disappeared?"

"Yes, High Commander."

"I don't know how much time Duncan had with you, what with that mess at Ostagar," he guffawed suddenly, "but you certainly have quite the set of manners."

Sierra inclined her head in thanks, but said nothing. His casual mention of Ostagar made her heart thump sickly in her chest, however.

"All right," the man said. "You'll get your records."

"Will copies of the records be sent to every Warden fortress in Thedas?" she asked quickly.

He nodded, an amused smile on his face. "If that is what you'd like."

"Thank you, High Commander," she said with a sigh of relief. "I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me." She got to her feet, and already missed the feel of the comfortable chair.

"May I ask what your plans are?"

Sierra felt her guts writhe uncomfortably. "I am not certain. Back to Ferelden, to be sure."

"Then I can't convince you to stay here?"

"No, ser," she said firmly. _That_ would complicate things immensely.

"Then perhaps I can convince you to take up your post in Amaranthine as Commander of the Grey in Ferelden?" he tried.

She froze, color draining from her face. Should she, or shouldn't she? Was that what she was supposed to do? Was it her duty as a Grey Warden?

She was no Grey Warden, not anymore. She was in league with ancient Gods.

What else was she going to do with her time, if not that?

She wasn't sure if she could take more Grey Wardens right now. It would all remind her of him. Besides, she was getting bloody sick and tired of being told what to do. Her head was suddenly spinning. "High Commander, I-"

"You're going back there, anyway, yes? Why the hesitation?"

Oh, if only he knew.

"I understand losing your lover to the Archdemon must have been devastating," he continued, "but what do you think _he_ would want you to do?"

The elf felt her face turn to stone. "Do not think to manipulate me with his memory, High Commander."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Of course not. Forgive me. Ask one of the Wardens outside the door to lead you to the record-keeper. If I tell him your tale, I'll get it all wrong, and we wouldn't want that."

"Thank you, High Commander." She bowed, fists crossed over her chest, and turned to leave.

His voice floated up from behind her, "If you change your mind about Amaranthine…"

"If I change my mind," she answered curtly, "I'll find you." Her armor clattering, she left the chamber.

The two Wardens seemed surprised by her appearance, as if they'd never expected her to come out. They stiffened their faces back into immobile masks quickly.

She tried to smile winningly at their stony expressions. "Could you take me to the record-keeper? The High Commander-"

Without letting her finish, they nodded and started marching down the hall. Sighing, Sierra trotted to keep up with them. They reached a secluded door, and stopped.

"Thanks," she attempted, but wasn't offended when they didn't respond. Knocking a few times, she waited until someone called from the other side before swinging the door open.

Now _this_ was a true scholar. The pale young man appeared to be nearly buried in books, scrolls, and any kind of vellum one could imagine. There was hardly any room to stand. The presence of so much literature seemed to dwarf him. "Can I help you?" he asked from behind a fortress of books.

"The High Commander sent me here for you to record my, ah, experiences," she explained.

He attempted a smile, but it didn't work. "So the rumors were true."

"What rumors?" she demanded.

"That the Hero of Ferelden had arrived."

Sierra hung her head in dismay. She would've hoped a fellow Grey Warden would've been immune to this nonsense. "Please, don't call me that," she begged. "I just came to tell you something I've recently discovered, something that future Wardens need to know."

He shook his head, wagging a finger at her. "Oh, no, no. I'm afraid that won't do." Sitting down in a small chair behind his cluttered desk, he began shuffling papers. "I'll need to hear everything."

"_Everything_?" Sierra squeaked.

"You're the only one who knew what happened during the Fifth Blight," he pointed out, dipping his quill in a nearby ink bottle. "It needs to be documented." He blinked at her owlishly.

Sighing, she raised her dark eyes to the ceiling. Why, oh why, did no Gods see fit to show her mercy? Not even the ones who lent her such copious amounts of power?

"Just start from the beginning," he encouraged.

She closed her eyes, and muttered a plea for emotional control to herself.

She started talking.

It wasn't like when she'd told Topher. It was much easier than that. Leaving out all the personal stuff, sticking with the facts. Dalish elves, dwarves, mages, knights. Sacred Ashes, Landsmeet, Archdemon. All tied together with a pretty bow.

Then came the rest.

Keeping a death grip on any and all feelings, she stuck to the facts again. It made it manageable. Not easy, never that. Doable, yes.

"Well," the record-keeper said. He tried to keep his voice neutral, but he failed miserably. "You've...accomplished much."

"So everyone tells me," she replied, looking uncomfortably at her feet.

"What was it like? Facing the Archdemon?" he whispered. "What about seeing it again, in the Fade?"

Sierra looked at him, _really_ looked at him. "They don't let you out much, do they?" she asked.

His pallid face flushed scarlet as his eyebrows rushed together. "I'm a capable warrior, if that's what you're insinuating!"

"Please, don't be offended," she objected, holding up her hands. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant..." Sierra gestured to all the books and scrolls. "This must take a lot of maintenance."

His shoulder slumped, and he nodded. "It does. I love it, but..." He sighed wistfully, propping his chin on his hand to stare at her adoringly. "You must be such a fantastic warrior. Like, unstoppable."

_Oh, you have no idea, _her brain traitorously whispered even while her cheeks burned. "I don't know about all that," she said, wringing her hands.

"I mean, Wardens of the future will look up to you forever," he continued, eyes sparkling excitedly. "You did the impossible! In Ferelden, no less! A country we've only been allowed back into recently. You really are..."

Sierra wasn't listening to him anymore. Her mind was skidding on his first sentence. Wardens of the future. She almost groaned out loud.

How was she going to manage just _appearing_ when the next Blight began? She couldn't just show up and demand respect, expect anyone to listen to anything she had to say. She couldn't even expect to be allowed any where near the Archdemon. Sure, she could fake being a Grey Warden, and she could probably lie about which country she'd come from, but that wouldn't give her an ounce of authority.

As much as she loathed the idea, authority was what she would need. Especially for the Sixth Blight. How else was she going to make sure she was the only one to strike the death blow against the Archdemon? By the Seventh, one would assume her unwanted legend will have preceded her. In theory.

Could she fool everyone into thinking she was a Warden Commander? She dismissed that idea almost immediately. Adjusting the memories and perceptions of Gods only knew how many people seemed like a messy operation.

She looked into the record-keeper's worshiping eyes...and had a better idea.

Her guts crawled with embarrassment and distaste as she slid her hand across the desk to touch one of his.

The young man's eyes widened.

"Could you do me a favor?" she asked quietly, batting her eyelashes. "I'd really appreciate it."

"Of course!" he agreed rapidly. "Whatever you'd like."

Without knowing exactly what she was doing, she took his hand, interlocking their fingers. The chill started again. It was slower this time, not rippling so much as oozing up her legs. "I need something else in the records."

"Anything," he replied, eyes fixed on her face.

Leaning close to his face, she whispered, "I am the Red Rose." Her voice had changed, from something normal to something decidedly _not_ normal.

"I will conquer those of the Old Gods that remain," she continued, the chill rising faster now. "I am to be trusted, for I have the interests of all in my heart. I am to be welcomed, for I bring advice and guidance. All who hear of my tale, who read these records, shall unconsciously believe in me." The chill reached her head, lifting the hairs on her scalp again.

The record-keeper was completely transfixed. "Your name will go in the records, Red Rose," he answered faithfully. His hand seemed to move of his own accord, and it scribbled her impromptu code name.

"You will not remember this. The Hero of Ferelden left after completing her tale. You will be the first to, in their deepest heart, believe in the Red Rose," she intoned, her voice taking an echoing quality.

"I believe, Red Rose."

Sierra snatched her hand away as if the young man was suddenly on fire.

What had she _done_?

In her mind, she could almost see Urthemiel's eyes shine with that otherworldly light.

The elf backed away until she hit the door. Opening it enough to squeeze out, she shut it quickly behind her and tried to flee.

She collided with someone instead. Books went flying, as did the person.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered quickly, bending down to help them gather their things.

"No trouble," came the response. "Nice to, ah, run into another elf."

Sierra blinked. The person before her _was_ an elf, even smaller than herself. An elven woman, to be exact. Her short mousy brown hair was liberally colored with gray. She was reaching for her polished white staff with one hand, her books clutched in her other hand.

Mage.

_Hide!_ Sierra thought immediately, mind racing to Morrigan's sensitivity to her power. The chill raced this time; toes, body, head, hairs.

"There, all's well," the other elf replied, standing up and giving no indication that she sensed anything out of the ordinary.

"Good," Sierra gulped. "I'm really sorry about that, honestly."

"It's all right," the elf assured her, smiling warmly.

"Look, I know I just ran you down, so I have no right to ask you any favors, but would you mind leading me out of here?" she asked, glancing nervously behind her to the closed door of the record-keeper's room. "It seems my _lively_ escort has vanished."

"Ah, yes, the newest Wardens are always so serious." The elf made a mocking face and Sierra giggled. "Right this way."

"I'm Sierra," she offered as they started walking.

"Fiona," responded the mage.


	23. Chapter 23

**Thanks to Lillie Cullen for pointing out that Sierra had unfinished business at the fortress!**

She began the long journey back to Ferelden, retracing her steps. On to her next task. When she reached Cumberland, with great dread, she boarded another ship. She supposed she could ease her suffering with her power, but she refused. What she had done at Weisshaupt had frightened her. It had been necessary, maybe, but that didn't make it any less scary.

Adding doubly to her watery torture, she did not get off at Denerim. Instead, she rode the vessel all the way to Gwaren, then back tracked to the fortress where she'd met Topher.

As she pushed the creaking doors open, she felt the lack of his presence immediately. Now, this place was just a cold, empty maze of stone. It was the not the refuge she had found it to be what seemed like ages ago.

Ah, well, she had something she needed to do.

Despite her lack of familiarity with great stone structures such as this, she found the courtyard easily enough.

Victor's bones stood out brightly, even though they were shrouded by the overgrown grasses. The blade of his ancient greatsword was still stuck between the glaringly white bones of his ribcage.

So much time had gone by, Sierra had no way of knowing where Victor had buried Topher. The years had erased any mound of dirt, any marker. Nature had taken over everything.

Picking what she thought was a relatively pretty spot, she got to her knees and started digging with her hands. If she encountered particularly troublesome roots or stones, she pried at them with her axe blade. The sun beat down on her, and soon her sweat mingled with the dirt under her hands.

As she dug, an idea came to her.

Assuming that, at some point, there would be fighting, which there always was, she would need to know just how powerful she was. Just how immortal. Say, what would happen if she suffered a fatal injury? Would she simply shrug it off? Would she black out into unconsciousness, only to wake later as if nothing had happened?

These were important questions.

The elf was aware that any person, particularly those close to her, would think she sounded suicidal. She didn't feel suicidal, despite what she intended to do. She just needed to know. It seemed like a perfectly logical thing to do.

Perhaps that should've worried her more than it did; that her plan seemed logical.

Blinking in surprise, she lifted her head. The grave was deep enough. She could stop now. Looking down at her hands, Sierra wasn't shocked to see that her skin had torn and blood ran in rivulets all over her fingers and palms, mixing with the dirt to make a strange mud.

Wiping them hastily on the grass, she placed Victor's bones carefully in the grave. She squinted and picked through the vegetation, making sure she hadn't missed a single one. With wide, sweeping gestures of her arms, she pushed the dirt back where it had come from, covering the six hundred year old bones.

Sweat fell into her eyes, stinging them painfully. Getting to her feet, she picked up Victor's greatsword. Gathering her strength, she drove it into the ground at the head of the grave.

Sierra leaned her head down, touching her forehead to the hilt for a moment.

She wanted to be angry, to cry, to feel _something_. Nothing. All she felt was calculating and cold. The most feeling she'd been able to muster up since the Gods had recruited her was at the High Commander…and that was only because he'd tried to use Alistair against her.

The chill thrummed near her toes almost constantly. Waiting..._begging_ to be used.

Standing up, she started making her way out of the courtyard. A metallic noise caught her attention, and she looked down.

An ancient dagger lay near her feet. The noise she'd heard was when she'd kicked it. She bent and picked it up, twirling it back and forth. She didn't know where it had come from. Maybe it had been Victor's, or Pria's that he'd carried around with him after her death.

It didn't matter. It suited her experiment very nicely.

She made her way back out of the fortress, holding the antique dagger in her right hand loosely. She walked until she stood at the water's edge, the ocean lapping at the toes of her boots. Bending low, she rinsed her bloody hands. The sting of the salt water was sharp, but it made her feel clean

Her dark eyes narrowed at the sun's powerful rays, and she breathed in the pungent air.

She had to know, she told herself. It would be horribly irresponsible to go into battle, especially if others were depending on her, if she didn't know what her reaction to deadly injuries was going to be. She _needed_ to do this.

If, for some reason, this failed miserably; if it were just some cruel joke the Gods were playing on her…well, she'd just have to apologize to Alistair when she met up with him. Better to beg for forgiveness, isn't that what they said?

Clamping the dagger between her teeth, she fumbled clumsily at the fastenings on her breastplate. It finally came off, making a dull sound against the sand where she tossed it. The ocean breeze felt wonderful ruffling through her undershirt.

She took the dagger out of her mouth, and gripped it with both hands. She positioned it properly, just as Zevran had showed her.

_"Ah, no, no, Warden! You are so clumsy. Honestly, how you manage to kill anything is a mystery to me!"_

_"What am I doing wrong, oh master assassin?"_

_"You place the tip of the blade here, between the third and fourth ribs. This is where the heart hides, yes?"_

_"OK, and do I…"_

_"Ah, what am I to do with you, Dalish? You're hopeless, I say! It's a tragedy, really."_

_"Shut up and show me, you scoundrel!"_

_"Oh, I do so love it when you talk dirty. Like this, between these ribs, with a slight upward angle. Get your blade here and you will slice their heart in half. Your foe is dead before-"_

_"Hey! What in Andraste's name do you think you're doing! Get away from her!"_

_"Peace, Alistair, peace! I was merely- Ouch! Oh, what a bad, bad boy you are. Ouch! All right, all right, I'm backing away."_

Sierra bit her lower lip as a fit of giggles took her over. That memory was one of her favorites; it had been one of the first moments she'd realized Alistair had feelings for her.

It was a huge relief to her that it was just that, too. Just a memory. Not a borderline hallucination. Not a "micro burst" of sleep. Just a fond memory.

Getting her laughter under control, she took another deep breath and repositioned the dagger, just as Zevran had taught her.

The elf inhaled slowly and, on the exhale, plunged the dagger into her chest.

The pain was blindingly.

Hot blood flooded over her hands, down her body, dropping to the sand in huge, wet splatters. Her ears filled with a mind-numbing ringing, blocking out the calming sound of the waves. She fell to her knees, and in her rapidly decreasing field of vision, Sierra saw the ever-widening circle of her blood oozing into the sand.

She coughed hoarsely, and blood burst from her mouth in a fine spray. Must have nicked her lung, too. Zevran would be so disappointed.

In the Fade, when she'd almost died, it had felt weak and undignified.

Dying like this, however; this felt proper.

Everything was spinning, and she lost feeling in her legs. She closed her eyes, leaning her head down to rest against the red-stained sand. Reaching beneath her, she grabbed the dagger's hilt, slick with her blood, and yanked it out.

Another fountain of blood gushed out, but it seemed more reluctant this time. Feeling blindly with her fingers, she probed the wound. It seemed to be moving…shifting.

_Already?_ she thought giddily to herself. The numbness that had taken her legs disappeared as quickly as it had come. The spinning was easing, the ringing in her head abating. She still couldn't hear the waves, though.

What she _could_ hear was the desperate, wordless shout of someone else.

In her head, she groaned. What poor bystander had witnessed her experiment? This was going to be difficult to explain. Well, she supposed she needed the practice. Might as well get used to crafting elaborate excuses for her invincibility.

The stranger's running footsteps seemed to shake the ground as they rapidly approached. Pressing her hands against her chest as if she were trying to apply pressure, she managed to grunt, "I'm all right."

They rolled her over forcefully, pulling her across their bent knees. "What in the name of all the Maker made holy is wrong with you, woman?" they roared.

Definitely a man. Sierra kept her eyes closed, hoping she would give the illusion of pain. Truth was, that was disappearing quickly. She didn't know how much the man had seen. Perhaps there was a way to play this off like she hadn't just shoved a dagger through her own heart. Although his previous statement made it pretty clear he'd seen her do just that.

"Really, it's not as bad as it looks," she said lamely from her position draped over his lap. Gods, that sounded ridiculous. She would definitely have to work on that whole "Oh, it's not really a death wound" thing.

"Oh Andraste, there's blood everywhere," he breathed. His hands pulled at her hands, trying to move them. "Let me see it."

The only thing left over from the experiment was some residual ringing noise. It made her new friend sound like he was talking through a burlap sack filled with bees.

"No, it's fine." She forcibly twisted out of his grasp, back onto her hands and knees. If she let him see her chest, it would make things worse. She was fairly certain there wasn't even a wound there anymore. Panting slightly, she opened her eyes to stare anxiously at the blood-soaked sand, quietly dreading what his next comment would be.

"Maker's breath, do you always have to be so stubborn?"

Well, she certainly wasn't expecting anything like that. The familiarity of the statement caught Sierra's attention. She twisted her neck slowly, raising her head…and looked into a set of disapproving, frightened amber eyes.

She fainted.


	24. Chapter 24

_She was sitting on the ground, hands braced behind her with her knees bent, as if someone had just pushed her down. The skirt of the emerald gown splashed all around her like a halo._

_Urthemiel towered over her, its massive bulk casting a huge shadow. _"Do not do that again."

_Jumping to her feet, Sierra shouted, "Is that who I think it is?"_

"Do not do that again."

_"Is that who I think it is?" she countered._

_Its wings unfurled suddenly, making it even more imposing. _"Do not do that again."

_"You will ANSWER ME!" Her blood pressure spiked in her temples as she screamed. Ah, rage. She'd missed it._

"Not until you assure me that you will not do that again."

_Sierra felt her teeth involuntarily grinding together as her breath blew forcefully out of her nose , much like that of an angry bull. Her fists clenched, and she glared up at the dragon._

"If you refuse to cooperate..." _It cocked its head to the side, as if listening. _"If you insist, but she will become unmanageable if we constantly acquiesce to her requests."

_Despite the anger and wild uncertainty running through her, she narrowed her eyes in confusion. Obviously, Urthemiel had not been talking to her. "Unmanageable". She snorted. She'd show them "unmanageable"._

"Toth wishes to speak to you." _Urthemiel bent its head low and folded its wings back._

_"Toth?" she questioned suspiciously. "But I thought-"_

"Some...faculties have returned, but not all. I will have to translate, since speech as you could understand it is not one of them."

_Urthemiel stepped back and to the side, leaving room for the other dragon to come forward. It did excitedly, bounding like a mabari, shaking the ground beneath Sierra's feet. It skidded to a stop before her, bending its head rapidly until one of its eyes was level with the elf's head._

_She was stunned. Urthemiel was cold, calculating, devoid of all emotion. Toth appeared to be nothing _but_ emotion. Even its eyes, at least the one she could see, were expressive. Right now, they seemed to nearly burst with joy._

_She shot Urthemiel a look._

"According those who used to worship us, I am the God of Beauty, yes? Beauty is subjective. It is an analysis, a judgment. Beauty in and of itself has no emotion." _It gestured with its head at the energetic Toth. _"Toth, however, is considered the God of Fire. Fire means many things: a tangible thing that consumes fuel, a descriptor for anger, a metaphor for love. Fire is volatile." _Urthemiel blinked its eyes blandly. _"You two should get on well."

_Dragging her eyes back to Toth, she whispered, "Answer me."_

_While Urthemiel's voice did not reflect the emotion the elf saw in Toth's eyes, its voice did change. The tone seemed richer, more vibrant. _"It is who you think it is."

_Sierra staggered, almost falling back to the ground. Toth pushed its short snout forward, and she grabbed blindly at one of its protruding scales to steady herself. "How...? You told me you couldn't do it." Turning, she looked accusingly at Urthemiel. "You told me you couldn't do it!"_

"We cannot. We had to petition those above us, those with power to manipulate the aspects of life and death."

_The voice changed then, becoming Urthemiel's again. _"Think on that next time you wish to cause us a great deal of trouble again."

_"What trouble?" she managed, though her heart beat so hard it almost strangled her._

"That experiment of yours. Do not think it is easy to keep your frail, mortal body alive. We had to struggle greatly to pull you back from the brink."

_"I do believe there will fighting at some point," she pointed out harshly. "You better be prepared for a whole lot more of that sort of thing."_

"You managed to survive the entire Fifth Blight without our help. Be that careful, and we will not have to save you. If you think you will avoid your duties that easily, Champion, think again."

_"I wasn't trying to avoid anything!" hissed Sierra. "I needed to know what would happen, how it would feel!"_

"Now you know. Do not do it again."

_"What happens if some darkspawn cuts off my head?" she sassed, putting her hands on her hips._

_There was a stretch of silence. _"I would avoid that."

_Toth reached out with a scaled back leg and kicked Urthemiel gently in the ribs._

"Toth wearies of our squabbling."

_"All right." She took a deep breath, trying to exhale the combativeness out of her system. "You have my undivided attention," she said to the dragon next to her, "I assure you."_

"We appealed to those above us. I explained that our Champion, though a formidable warrior, needed more incentive to be the best. Without her lover, the fire we had prized her for was gone." _Toth's eye sparkled with cleverness. _"The angle worked. It was agreed that he be found, and that he be allowed to walk your realm once more."

_"Why did it take so long?" she demanded. "I've been traipsing all over Thedas for...forever!"_

"It took time for me to realize that you truly needed him. Once those above us were convinced, it took them an even greater amount of time to reconstruct his form. You mortals and your strange custom of burning your dead." _Toth shook its head as if in great amusement. _"I do not think I will ever understand you."

_"But he's not your Champion. I am," she said quietly. She started backing away from Toth as her heart filled with ice. "He's not immortal. I'll have to say goodbye to him...again..." Shadowy fingers of grief wrapped around her lungs, squeezing the air out slowly. "Is this another way for you to twist my words? To make me miserable?"_

_Toth's face filled with surprise, and it shook its head._

_Sierra narrowed her eyes balefully. "No? How, then? How could this possibly be a decent thing?"_

"See? This is what happens when you are kind." _Urthemiel flapped a wing at Toth. _"I told you this was a poor decision." _Toth whipped its head around, a silken growl vibrating from its throat. _"As you wish."

"It is true. You will have to watch him die." _Toth's eye filled with sorrow. _"Those above us did not grant us exactly what I desired."

_Sierra crumpled to the ground. She supposed she was being spoiled. After all, this was much, much more than she could've ever hoped for. A lifetime with him. To watch him die at the end of a beautiful life spent together, that wouldn't be so bad, right? _

"As they shouldn't have. You asked for entirely too much."

"Be silent, Urthemiel!"

_Sierra felt a scaly nose nudge her shoulder. She looked up at the dragon's gigantic head. _"I am not finished, Champion."

_"What?"_

"I am not finished. I said those above us did not give us what I wanted, but I managed to get a different concession from them."

_"Like what?"_ _Sierra didn't dare to breathe, as Toth's expression boasted a victory of another kind._

"This time is a gift, from both of us." _The dragon shot a glare at its fellow, as if daring an objection. _"Once your lover's mortal life has run its course, yes, he will die. Then, however, he will be reborn. You will have to find him yourself from then on. You can find him again...and again...and again. Until your duty to us is done."

_At first, she could only blink at the God in shock. "I...wait...what?"_

"He will be a different person, look different than he does now. He will always remember you, though, deep down. Your connection will transcend the chains of death. Each incarnation of him will know you immediately as his lover." _Toth's eye shined with merriment. _"Love at first sight, as you mortals say."

_Her mouth fell open, and she pushed herself to her feet. "So...I get him forever?"_

"Not technically. There will be a period of time after he dies and before he is reborn. It is needed to give his spirit rest. Mortal souls are not meant for this sort of thing. Of course, you'll also have to wait until he matures. We can't have you snatching babies from cribs, can we?"

_Sierra couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. It was loud and it went on for longer than it needed to, but it was filled with joy, abandon, and gratitude. "How will I find him?" she asked when she'd calmed down._

"You will sense him, the same way you did in the Fade."

_"How about we just don't let me sense him until he's old enough, hmm? I don't know that I'll be able to restrain myself."_

_Toth's face filled with amusement. _"That is a restriction you will have to impose on yourself. We have no control over your power in that area. Now, will you stop moping around your realm like the most depressed Champion there ever was? It is making us look simply dreadful."

_"Yes!"_ _she exulted, throwing her arms around Toth's nose without thinking. A rumble of pleasure hummed through the dragon, pulsing into Sierra's body._

"While I do not share Toth's enthusiasm for giving you whatever you please, I agree." _Urthemiel shuffled with wings in a business-like fashion. _"If you are obviously unhappy, it appears as if we cannot attract followers, that we must force them to champion our causes. If you are happy, however, a much better light is shed on us."

_"Well, we can't have you two appearing weak, can we?" Sierra agreed, smiling at the other dragon, all animosity gone. "I will serve you happily...in light of this gift you have given me." Spreading her skirts, she curtsied low. _

"I must inform your lover."_ Urthemiel blinked. _"He only knew the bare minimum in the first place. We told him where to find you, and that you were aiding us."

_"I can tell him the rest."_

"No. I do not trust you to remain neutral, if you are to tell him. You will botch it up, in your typical mortal fashion."

_Sierra sighed, and Toth nudged her with its nose. Giggling, she patted it. Urthemiel was probably right. "Will I faint every time I get seriously hurt?" she asked, changing the subject._

"No. You fainted because you saw him, not because of your inane experiment."

_The elf felt her cheeks burn, and Toth rumbled again. She could swear it sounded like laughing. "Thank you," she said, clearing her throat. "I'll treasure these years. At least, I guess, until it's time for him to go to the Deep Roads." Sierra sneered at herself; she couldn't just enjoy this moment for a few minutes. She had to immediately start clouding it with sadness. Toth was right; she _was_ the most depressing Champion ever._

_Toth shooks its head. _"Your lover is no Grey Warden, not anymore. His body, completely reconstructed, is free of the taint. You will have him until the end of his natural lifespan."

_Tears welled up in her eyes swiftly, as they'd only been waiting for all the excitement to die down before showing themselves. "I cannot thank you enough."_

"Just do your duty." _Urthemiel stomped its front feet, as if it were uncomfortable with all the mortal emotion being displayed._ "Now, I have to explain things to him before he goes and does something foolish, like you have a tendency to do."

_The elf wrapped grateful arms around Toth's face again, ignoring Urthemiel's jibe. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the vibrations of Toth's contented rumbling. She drifted away, out of this place and into nice, quiet darkness._

Her whole body jumped, and she nearly fell off the table. Table? Instead of salty breezes and breaking waves, she was surrounded by ancient stone. How had she gotten in the fortress? She sat up, leaping off the table in her enthusiasm. A cloud of dust plumed around her at the disturbance.

Clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, she realized this was the same room that she and Topher had talked in. Her dark eyes fell on the chair that had groaned when she'd sat in it. Currently it held her armor and axe. He must have taken it off of her when he brought her in here.

The room was empty. Where was he? As she stood quietly for a moment, pondering, she ran a hand idly over her ribs. Her fingertips found the ragged edges of the new scar easily. Well, that one sure was impressive.

Though her mind screamed for her to find him, she made herself wait. She noticed something was...different. What throbbed at the tips of her toes was no longer a chill. Instead it was thick and warm. Like blood. Like love.

She didn't feel empty anymore. She felt whole.

Now...to find her prize.

She closed her eyes, and let the warmth ooze out from her. Seeking.

Her eyes snapped open, and she grinned widely.

She couldn't contain it any longer. Why should she? Things were finally _finally_ going her way. It seemed the world was not as cruel as she'd thought. It seemed that sometimes a lonely Dalish elf could win.

Sierra threw back her head and let out a crazy whoop of joy. When the sound of her triumph was finished echoing off the walls, when agitated dust was swirling around her like a vortex, she sprinted from the room.

She hit the massive doors leading out of the fortress like a battering ram, bursting them open. Without breaking stride, she raced through the corridor until she reached the beach. Letting her senses guide her, she pelted across the sand like a charging mabari.

The commotion she'd made when she hit the doors had given him warning, so he wasn't caught completely unaware when she reached him. A good thing, for she may have tackled him. As it was, he was waiting, arms held wide open.

Sierra jumped, throwing her arms around his neck. "Oh, Alistair!"

"Maker's breath!" he exclaimed as he caught her, staggering a bit. Putting her down, he pried her off his neck and forced her to stand at arm's length. His eyes ran over her critically. Then, grabbing her face between his hands, he growled, "You scared me to bloody death, you wench!"

"I'm sorry. I just-"

"They told me what you _thought_ you were doing!" he interrupted, glowering. "Do you have any idea what that was like for me? I saw you-" He cut himself off. Squeezing her face, he snarled inarticulately.

"I know this is really undermining my apology, but I can't stop smiling." The elf grinned. "I'm really sorry, I swear."

"Andraste, I can't stay angry with you, anyway," he sighed in exasperation, letting go of her face. "I'm just happy you're all right."

"Of course I am." She puffed up her chest, and struck a heroic pose. "I'm a Champion of the Old Gods, you know."

"So I've heard." Alistair's expression clouded a bit. "Are you...bothered by it? I mean, are you OK with it?"

"They didn't give me much of a choice, love," she said, "but they _did_ give me _you_." Throwing her hands up in surrender, she laughed. "I can't find any real reason to complain."

"I suppose not."

"Are _you_ bothered by it, oh devout follower of Andraste?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, and shrugged. "'Bother' is a strong word."

"I would think so, since you're back from the dead!" Overtaken by joy again, Sierra laughed wildly and jumped into his embrace again.

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up. "So I am," he purred into her ear. "And I'll be doing a lot of that it seems."

"Is that OK?" she asked, facing the ocean, chin resting on his shoulder.

"I won't even know it's happening, so yeah, it's OK. I'm not the one who has it rough. You are," Alistair responded. "Are you going to be all right? Having to watch me...die over and over."

"It's not going to be pleasant, no," the elf agreed, watching the waves break against the shore, "but as long as I know I'm getting you back, I'll be all right."

"If you say so, I trust you."

"What was it like?" she asked. "The other side? Beyond the Fade?"

"I, ah, can't really remember," he said, and she could hear the semi-embarrassed tone in his voice. "It's all gone kind of hazy."

"Were you happy there?"

"Yes."

Her insides squirmed with guilt. "Were you...sad to leave it?"

"Since I was leaving it for you, not at all." He tightened his arms around her reassuringly.

They stood in silence for a while, and Sierra reveled in the fact that his arms never tired, like he could hold her up like that for days.

"So," he drawled, and she could hear the mischief in his voice. "How many rooms does that monstrosity have?"

"I don't know," she giggled. "Why?"

He let her down, and she looked up into his perfect amber eyes. "Because," he lowered his head until they were nose to nose, "I'm going to make love to you in every...single...one of them."

Before she could issue a snappy retort, her lips were busy doing something else.

Hours later, as Sierra lay panting on the cool stone floor, her body slick with sweat, she asked, "Are we done with this floor yet?"

"Not sure, sweetheart," he replied, laying next to her. Equally out of breath, he added, "I thought I saw another room at the end of this hall."

"Guess we'll just have to soldier on then," the elf said, grinning in the darkness. Night had fallen while they'd checked their current room off the list. "We'll probably need some torches or something to find our way around, though."

"Maybe we should sleep here for a little while."

"Sleep?" she echoed, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him. "You getting soft of me, love?"

"Soft's _not _the problem!" he chuckled, grabbing her hand and placing it where it best illustrated his response. "I'm only a mere mortal, you know," Alistair pouted. "I'm not up to the new...pace you're setting, Champion."

"That's a brand new body you've got there!" she teased, poking him in the ribs. "We've got to break it in. Besides, you're the one who wanted to get every room in the place." She frowned darkly. "_Very_ sad when a man can't live up to his word."

"All right, that's it." He rolled her over swiftly. "Just for that, we're doing this room _twice_."

Sierra was finding it hard to argue with that "punishment".

She lay in his arms afterwards, looking up at the ceiling. Nothing could be heard but the distant waves, their heavy breathing, and the thundering of their hearts. The elf thought there wasn't any possible way she could be any happier.

"Marry me?" Alistair whispered in the darkness.

Perhaps she was wrong.

Her breath stilled in her throat. Turning her head slowly, she looked at him with wide eyes. "What...did you say?"

The brittle starlight coming in the window didn't illuminate much, but she could see his features were as serious as they'd ever been. "Marry me," he said again.

Sierra simply stared at him for a moment. Could her life have changed so dramatically in such a short amount of time? Was it possible to go from a life where experimentally stabbing yourself with a dagger to see how immortal you were sounded like an excellent idea...to a life where a gorgeous man, who you love, who has been your constant companion in the most tumultuous time of your life, was asking for your hand?

"Yes," she breathed.

He let out a rush of air, like she'd hit him in the stomach, then buried his face against her neck. "I'll be the best husband ever, you'll see."

"I know you will, love." A tear rolled out of the corner of her eye, disappearing into her hair. "We'll have to make a trip to a Chantry."

"That will be easy. We'll have to _find_ a Dalish clan," he snorted, voice thick and muffled by her neck. "Who does the marrying for you people, anyway? The Keeper?"

"Yes," she nodded, "but...we'll worry about that later." Sierra didn't think the moment needed to be ruined by explaining to Alistair that very few Dalish Keepers would be willing to marry one of their own to a human. "I think," she purred, pressing her body up against him, "this room deserves another round."

_That_ made him lift his head. "You think? Won't the other rooms get jealous?"

The elf laughed low in her throat. "They might, but this room _is_ more special than the others."

"Good point."

Light poured into the room as the sun cleared the horizon. Sierra's eyes opened suddenly, but it had nothing to do with it being morning. Someone was coming. She sat up and held her breath. At the edge of her mind, she sensed them. Male. Alone. Warden.

"Wake up, love," she said, shaking Alistair's shoulder, though not unkindly.

"No, I don't want to," he whined. "Five more minutes."

"Alistair," she said firmly.

He opened one eye to glare at her. "It's too bloody early, darling. I-" He stopped when he saw the look on her face. "What is it?"

"Someone's coming. A Warden. You have to hide, and I need to...not be naked."

"You think so? I believe it would be an education to whoever it is," he said lecherously, giving her shoulder a play bite.

She swatted at him, smiling. "Pull yourself together. Come on, he'll be here soon." Getting to her feet, she gave Alistair a hand up.

"I'm not even going to ask how you know someone's coming," he said as they started down the hallway to the front room where they'd left their meager belongings.

"It's a Champion thing."

"Uh huh."

Between the two of them, the armor went on swiftly. "Stay in here," Sierra commanded. "I'm going to go out to meet him."

"But...I won't get to hear what's going on then!" he complained. "What if they want to kidnap you and take you to Weisshaupt?"

"He's _one_ Warden, love," she laughed, adjusting her axe, "and you don't actually believe that. You just want to hear what's going on." She added, more seriously, "I don't want him any closer to you than necessary. I didn't even tell them that I saved the Old Gods when I went to Weisshaupt. Explaining you...ten times worse."

"I don't know about that." He stroked his chin playfully. "The Hero of Ferelden being Champion of the former Archdemons, or one measly back-from-the-dead going-to-be-reincarnated-dozens-of-times Grey Warden." Alistair winked at her. "I still think you win."

Sierra snorted. "I probably do. Not the point. Stay here."

"Is this how it's going to be now that we're getting married? You bossing me around all the time?"

"Is that any different from our previous relationship?"

"Ah...no. Point taken."

"Thought so. _Stay_."

"I'm not a mabari!" he laughed, grabbing her arm as she tried to leave them room. "Why not...just let him get to the front doors?"

"You'll be less than fifteen feet from him then!"

Alistair shrugged. "So what? I'll be quiet, I promise!" He changed tactics, his tone persuasive. "He'll be more off-guard then, walking through that massive corridor all alone..."

The elf sighed, closed her eyes, and counted to ten silently. "Fine, but _one sound_ out of you, dear one, and I swear-"

"Ooo, I like it when you're all intimidating."

"I bet you do," she laughed, pulling him down for a kiss.

"You know, with you being Champion of the Old Gods and all, I really think we need to look into getting you some armor that kicks a bit more ass than your current set."

Sierra cocked her head to the side suddenly. "He's in the corridor now."

Alistair narrowed his eyes at her. "All right, now that's just plain creepy."

"Get used to it," she giggled, hitting him playfully in the stomach. "Start being quiet."

"Fine, fine, fine."

Sierra left the room and stood in the hallway. Before long, one of the doors opened cautiously, just a little. It then swung forcefully open, as the lone Warden burst in, arrow already drawn taut across his bowstring.

"Lower your weapon," Sierra said sternly.

The combination of her standing there unexpectedly in the hallway and the sudden loudness of her voice startled the Warden badly. The arrow shot into the floor, quivering madly as its tip burrowed down between two stones.

"By the Maker!" he gasped. "You _are_ here! I thought for sure it was a bogus tip!"

"What tip?" she demanded, her eyes tightening.

"Come, come, Hero of Ferelden. You can't tell the High Commander your whole story, then expect him to not use it to the fullest extent."

"Don't call me that," barked the elf, crossing her arms. "What tip?"

"The Revered Mother in Denerim. You said she had been one of your companions." The man shrugged. "I just went there and asked her where she thought you'd be. She mentioned this wreck of a fortress had special meaning for you, Andraste only knows why."

"Andraste has no idea why," she snapped. Sierra clenched her fists painfully as she mentally cursed Leliana. "What do you want?"

"Peace, Warden." He put up his hands. "I just want to deliver a message from the High Commander."

"Which is..."

"The situation in the arling of Amaranthine is deteriorating. Darkspawn are ravaging the countryside. He offers the position as Commander of the Grey in Ferelden one last time, before he is forced to appoint someone else to deal with it. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. The example of Amaranthine will be a model for all other nations."

The urge to laugh seized her and she tightened her jaw to quell it. Opportunity of a lifetime, hmm? Pretty tall order in her case. "If I refuse, who will he send?" she asked.

"I don't presume to know the High Commander's mind, but probably someone from Orlais."

"Oh, _that_ will go over well with the Fereldans!" Sierra laughed.

"With all due respect, you're the only Fereldan Grey Warden. The people of this nation will have no choice but to accept the foreign Warden."

Oh, Gods. Part of her whispered that she didn't have to do this. No one could make her. She could surround this fortress with power, make it inaccessible, forgettable. Or she and Alistair could just leave. Leave the fortress, the country, whatever.

Champions did not run. At least, not _this _Champion.

"Tell the High Commander I accept," she said, rubbing her eyes. What about Alistair? They couldn't just walk around together. He was supposed to be dead.

"Vigil's Keep will be glad to have you, I'm sure," the Warden said, a small grin on his face.

"How big is Vigil's Keep?"

He looked perplexed. "Fairly large. I'm not exactly certain. Why?"

"Just wondering if there are places to hide things," she answered cryptically.

The Warden narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but did not say anything. "Is there any other information you need?"

"No. I'll find my way to Vigil's Keep as soon as I can."

"I will inform the High Commander. He will be most pleased." Inclining his head, he yanked his arrow from the stones and left. The door made a muffled _boom_ as he closed it behind him.

The elf sighed, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Always complications...

Sierra entered the room to find Alistair running his fingers through his hair, expression clouded with concern, and just a little bit of pride. "So...Vigil's Keep. Commander of the Grey."

"Yeah..." She twisted her hands uncomfortably. "Don't quite know how we're going to work that out. I could lock you in my closet. I promise I'll bring you food. Does that sound fun?"

"Oh, yes. Can't wait."

"It's just until I pretend to go off to the Deep Roads, then-"

"Sweetheart, I don't care, as long as I'm with you." He reached out and pulled her into his arms. "I'm glad we're doing this. It sounds like they need you. We'll...figure out something." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Want to get married on the way?"

Sierra couldn't stop the grin that beamed across her face. After everything she'd..._they'd_...been through, this little problem was nothing. They'd figure it out. They had quite a walk ahead of them.

"Yes," she answered. "I think that's an excellent idea."


	25. Epilouge

_I miss the sound of your voice,_

_And I miss the rush of your skin,_

_And I miss the still of the silence,_

_As you breathe out_

_And I breathe in._

_~ "Come On Get Higher" Matt Nathanson_

Sierra crouched on the ledge, her hair whipping past her face in the brisk air. Most of the strands were still deep red, but a good amount was gray. She'd done it herself, finding that she was taken more seriously if she looked older.

One of the many lessons she'd learned over the centuries.

She'd spent her time as a Dalish should: all over the place. To Sierra, the uncharted territories in the south of Ferelden were no mystery, and the farthest reaches of the Anderfels were familiar ground.

She stayed some places, making a home for a number of years, always leaving before anyone noticed her longevity. She made friends with the nobility, helped the poor, brought justice with the blade of her axe. She fought the bad guys. Her adventures could fill countless books.

She'd also run into some of the foes of the Old Gods. Those adventures...no one would want to read. She didn't like remembering them herself.

She had collected many scars.

She checked in on the Grey Wardens once in a while, never often enough to be suspicious. She found herself constantly amused at the massive legend of the Red Rose. How it had taken on a life of its own. She had added to it occasionally with some of her more impressive adventures. After all, she couldn't have people thinking the _only _thing she'd done was rally Ferelden with another Grey Warden, defeat the Fifth Blight, and brave the Fade to save three of her fellow Wardens.

Sierra grinned to herself. No, she couldn't have that.

Her legend had served her well during the Sixth Blight. When she'd appeared, claiming that the Blight was coming, and that she was the Red Rose, she'd been accepted with an air of awe and relief. As if they'd been waiting for her.

Her first major "spell", and she'd done pretty damn good.

Manipulation of the connection between herself and the Old Gods had proven to be a great deal of trial and error, but most of it had been instinctual, like the way she'd convinced the young Wardens at the gates of Weisshaupt to let her in all those years ago. Now, so very close to the end, it was all second nature to her. Like breathing.

The Seventh Blight was coming. She could smell it, taste it in the air. It was time to finish it all, and get her much-deserved rest.

There was something else she could sense. Though she never kept track of the exact amount of years, she instinctively knew it was almost time for her love to make another appearance. The thought of that made her stomach fill with...butterflies.

Each time was a wonder, a chance to fall in love all over again. Sometimes he was a Grey Warden, sometimes he wasn't. Sometimes they got married, sometimes they didn't. Sometimes she told him right up front about who she was, what she was. Other times, she waited for a few years, concealing her power. She'd had lots of opportunities to experiment. He seemed to always appreciate honesty the most...as long as it wasn't the second thing out of her mouth after "hello".

He never looked the same, his voice never sounded the same, and his name was always different. But he always loved her, and the first time they met was always the same: he looked like he'd been hit over the head with a blunt object.

She found that she couldn't remember if that's how he'd looked at her when they'd _first_ met, at Ostagar.

A soft smile crossed her lips. That first lifetime was still her favorite. Sure, it had been fraught with pain and loss, but just in the beginning. Vigil's Keep had been much easier to handle than they'd thought. Oghren's surprising presence, and desire to be a Grey Warden, had been a little hiccup, but manageable in the end.

After they'd faked her journey to the Deep Roads, they'd had their golden years together. Well, Alistair's golden years. He'd died peacefully in their home, holding her hand.

That time.

Her hands clenched involuntarily. His most recent departure still rang in her head like the pealing of a poorly made bell.

They'd only been together a couple of years at that point. They'd been traveling, minding their own business, when they came upon a group of bandits attacking a farmhouse. They'd jumped to the rescue, but as the bandits had fled, one of them tossed a torch, setting the barn on fire.

The farmer's wife had screamed that one of their children was hiding in there.

He'd dashed inside before Sierra could stop him. She hadn't gotten around to telling him what she was yet, so he'd done the macho thing and gone in himself.

The roof collapsed on the barn, and the connection she always felt, that tied her to him, snuffed out like a candle.

Her power had lashed out like a crazed animal, crushing the fire's life in the blink of an eye, but it was too late. Too late for her love, and too late for the farmer's child.

She remembered grabbing the dragon coin, which by then she'd fashioned into a medallion that hung around her neck by a thick chain, and jumping to the Fade so fast she'd been a bit disoriented when she got there.

She'd screamed at Urthemiel and Toth until her voice went hoarse, until she was lightheaded from the lack of air. When she'd finally shrieked herself silent, Toth had told her, as gently as possible, that there was nothing to be done. However he died, that was how he died. There was no starting over.

It wasn't that he'd never died unexpectedly before. With so many lifetimes, it simply wasn't possible for him to die peacefully _every_ time.

But he'd never died so _soon_, so young. She'd only had him for a couple of years...

After she came out of the Fade, she'd stayed with the family for a while, helping them rebuild and get on their feet. Anything to distract her from the jarring loss.

The years had passed, like they always do, and now it was time again.

Sierra got up and began picking her way down the rock face. The sooner she could tell the Wardens in the keep below, the sooner preparations could begin.

The thought of her love reappearing soon put a little spring in her steps, and as she approached the gates, she could not repress the smile on her face.

When she announced herself to the watch, she had to stifle a giggle at the surprised oath that floated down from the battlements. She pictured the Warden scrambling to find the Commander, stumbling over his words like a nervous recruit, having to repeat himself as the Commander gave him a look that proclaimed nothing but doubt.

She had taken a little bit of liking to her legend. Glory was not so horrible when it was of your choosing, on your terms.

The gates swung open, and what could only be the Commander came striding out, flanked by a few senior Wardens. They stopped before her, wary yet eager.

"My lady," the Commander finally said, bowing.

"Commander," she responded, bowing in kind with a grin.

"You...look good for your age," he quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"What would you know of my age, Commander?" she demurred, batting her eyelashes. "A brazen approach to a woman, certainly."

"Ah, of course. Forgive me." He bowed again. "When faced with a legacy such as yours, dear lady, the first thing out of anyone's mouth is bound to be just a shade better than stupid."

Sierra laughed brightly. "Oh, I like you, Commander. We'll get along well."

"Not to insult you, my lady...but how exactly am I to know that you _are, _in fact, the Red Rose?" The man looked completely and utterly uncomfortable to be questioning her.

"Don't I fit the description well enough?"

He gave a short bark of laughter. "Elven, redhead, beautiful enough to drop a man to his knees, and carrying a battle axe? Yes, it all fits, but..."

The elf narrowed her eyes a bit. Suspicion? That was new. At the same time, though, refreshing. Showed the man had a brain in his head. Still, she grew quiet, serious. "What have you heard about the Sixth Blight, Commander?"

He swallowed hard, like a guilty child being questioned by a stern adult. "Many things."

"About the Archdemon," she clarified. "About it's death."

"That when you slew the Archdemon, the medallion you wear grew so hot it burned a scar into your skin," he answered obediently, gulping again.

"Come here, Commander," she ordered gently, shrugging off her battle axe and beginning to loosen the fastenings of her armor.

"My lady, really, there is no-" He put his hands up, face lined with regret that he had started this conversation.

"There is every need," Sierra countered, though not harshly. "I will need your respect, and your faith, if we are to be victorious." Dropping her armor to the ground, she beckoned the man.

He came forward. When he got close enough, she pulled her shirt down until the dragon coin could be seen dangling between her breasts. Reaching up with her other hand, she moved the coin to the side.

The scar was different from all the others. It looked as if her skin had melted like wax, only to solidify again reluctantly. It was perfectly circular.

"Satisfied?" she asked the Commander quietly. The day flashed vividly in her mind: the blinding explosion of light...and the pain too intense to describe.

He blinked a bit too rapidly. "Yes, my lady," he answered reverently.

"Good." The elf bent down to retrieve her breastplate, slipping it on and refastening it easily. "Now that's out of the way, we can get to the bad news."

The Commander stepped back a few feet, face no longer awestruck. Now it was just filled with fear. "It's coming, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is, but fear not." She grinned fiercely. "The Archdemon will cower before me."

He let out a strained laugh as the Wardens behind him broke into nervous muttering. "If you say so. Welcome to Vigil's Keep, Red Rose...or should I say, welcome back?"

"Ah, you know your legends well, Commander!" she praised as they made their way into the keep. A sense of familiarity seemed to pulse from the very walls, and Sierra felt her spirits soar. This was appropriate; to be in Ferelden again, to be at Vigil's Keep again. This was how it should end. "And, please, call me Sierra."

As they entered the courtyard, the Commander began, "I doubt you have any need of a tour, so-" A commotion arose near what, in Sierra's time, had been the training area. The Commander rolled his eyes. "I completely forgot about the new recruits. They're a bit...boisterous."

Sierra's dark eyes glittered with amusement as the racket continued, punctuated with laughter and friendly banter. "When is their Joining?"

"Tonight."

"It's been a while since I've seen one, I'd be delighted to-" She stopped then, instinct making her turn and watch the approaching rabble. A voice had risen above the others, and Sierra felt her heartbeat quicken, knocking against her ribs insistently.

"Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements!" One of the recruits spun inside a circle the others had formed around him, brandishing...something in his hand. The others laughed uproariously, pushing the one in the middle good-naturedly.

"I apologize for them in advance," the Commander groaned, rubbing his face.

"It's fine," she muttered through numb lips. She was barely listening. "Really."

"Recruits!" barked one of the senior Wardens behind Sierra. "Think you can manage to _not_ make fools of yourselves in front of an honored guest?"

The recruits turned and froze, looking like a herd of startled halla.

She sucked in her breath sharply. By the Gods of her people _and_ the Gods she served...

His amber eyes widened, even more than those of his fellows. His mouth hung open slightly in what looked to be amazement.

Sierra felt the tips of her fingers tingle slightly. In the farthest reaches of her mind, she could swear she heard Toth's deep, rumbling almost-laughter.

Exactly the same. He looked exactly the same as-

He took one, two halting steps forward, before dropping to one knee before her. Without hesitation, he held out what he'd been swinging at his fellow recruits moments ago. "For you," he said, a blush rising in his cheeks immediately.

That voice. How many nights had she dreamed of _that_ voice?

"By Andraste's holy boots, you'd think he'd never seen a woman before," sneered one of the senior Wardens.

"You don't have to take that," the Commander said angrily. He made to step forward, to get between them. "Alistair, on your feet, now!

Sierra's arm came up swiftly, blocking the Commander's advance. A tiny ounce of power went with the gesture, causing him to step back a pace as it rebuffed him. She didn't even look to see the confusion and surprise she was sure was on the man's face. She only had eyes for the young man before her.

So young.

She stared at what he offered, and her heart thumped louder. Taking it, she couldn't stop the shiver that raced up her spine at the grin of delight that spread across his face.

Her mind spun in a dozen different directions. A Blight and her love? How to handle both? Both. She snickered inside her head. Hadn't she managed that once before? But how to deal with the Commander and the new recruit she wouldn't be able to stay away from? Wouldn't be able to take her eyes off of?

It didn't matter. None of that mattered.

"You can get up, Alistair," she said quietly, smiling at the taste of that name on her tongue.

Looking startled out of a dream, he pushed himself to his feet. He suddenly became bashful, rubbing his dirty blond hair ruefully. "I- Sorry, I shouldn't have- What I mean is-"

"Yes, you should have," the elf interrupted, looking up at him.

"I... What? I should have? I..." A cautious smile lifted his lips, and his eyes filled with good-natured suspicion. "Is this some kind of test? Hit on the strange elf that shows up, and get extra chores for tomorrow?"

She laughed. "No, it isn't."

"You sure?" His smile had turned brash.

Sierra dragged the rose down her cheek slowly, savoring the feel of its silken petals on her skin. "Do I look like I'm not sure?"

"No," he gulped, cheeky grin fading. "Maker's breath, but you're beautiful."

The giggle that bubbled out of her mouth couldn't have been stopped. Not with all the power of the Gods.

**~FIN~**


End file.
